Fanfic100: Detective Conan
by Candyland
Summary: One hundred stories for the Conan cast. —Meeting at Midnight: How did all of these people get into my bedroom?—
1. A Small Square Box

**Title: **A Small Square Box  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#43—square  
**Word Count: **911 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **The hardest part of the day was the not-knowing.

**---**

There she was.

She sat near the front of the room, in the second row. He sat in the back…not that he minded, though. It did give him ample opportunities to observe. After all, Mitsuhiko had been observing Haibara Ai for quite a long time now—ever since their grade school days, when she'd transferred into their school. Now they were almost adults: seventeen years old and in their second year of high school. And Mitsuhiko hadn't grown out of his "little crush." If anything, he'd become more fascinated, more intrigued by the light-haired young woman who had always seemed far more mature than anyone else their age.

And to think that someone had once called it puppy love.

But right now, the scrutiny was more disheartened than anything else. The hardest part of the day was the not-knowing. But now the much-anticipated day was almost over, and it looked like this year was going to be another let-down.

This happened every year. February fourteenth would roll around, and he'd get his hopes up in spite of the fact that he really had no reason to do so. The day would pass, and he'd inevitably wind up disappointed and berating himself for hoping in the first place. And then he would decide that he hated Valentine's Day…until the next February twelfth, when he'd realize it was coming again and the process would start all over again: hoping, waiting, realizing, disappointment.

Granted, he was slightly relieved that she didn't seem to give chocolate to any other boys, either. And there were several who Mitsuhiko knew would be extremely pleased to receive such a gift. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

It was so stupid. He was logical. He was proud of his scientific mind and rational way of thinking. So why could he not rationalize this? And then logic reminded him that the heart wasn't always logical. And then he would invariably conclude that, for lack of a more eloquent phrase…

This sucked.

So he waited and watched, silently.

When the bell rang, sensei dismissed them, and everyone began gathering up their belongings to head home for the evening. Many of the boys were jabbering excitedly about the chocolate they'd received from their girlfriends, female friends, and surprise admirers.

A few seats in front of him, _she_ was doing the same.

Mitsuhiko sighed. Another year, another disappointment.

But he didn't blame Haibara—not at all. He was still too much of a chicken to say anything, even after all these years. She didn't know that she was silently crushing his hopes, and so it wouldn't be fair to blame his cowardice on her.

Oh, he had to hurry—the others were already at the door and ready for their daily walk home! Still feeling rather down, he turned to gather his own supplies into his school satchel. But a soft thump on his desk made him look up again.

Sitting innocently on top of his desk was a small square box, wrapped in plain red paper and adorned with a simple yellow ribbon. If he didn't know better, he'd say that it looked an awful lot like a box for Valentine's chocolate, like what many of the girls had been passing out all day…

But there was no one near his desk. The rest of his classmates were either already gone or…they were waiting impatiently for him at the door. Ayumi was calling to him now, gesturing for him to hurry up. They left him no time to contemplate the mysterious appearance of the box.

Hurriedly, he swept it into his schoolbag with the rest of his belongings, clicked the bag shut, and rushed to join them. Genta gave him some minor heckling before they made their way out of the building and onto the sidewalk to head for home.

On the sidewalk, Mitsuhiko was far removed from the animated conversation of his peers, who walked a couple of steps behind him. They were engaged in energetic conversation, while he was miles away, lost in La La Land, wondering about that gift. His rational mind had already figured that someone had simply dropped it on his desk as she walked by. The identity of his admirer, however, seemed determined to remain a mystery. He wanted to hope that it was from her, but there was no evidence to suggest that…and he wasn't quite so naïve as to not have noticed a few other girls giving him that special brand of look during class.

He flipped open his bag and fished the box out and gave it another look…only to notice something he had missed before: his name was written in neat black letters on the yellow ribbon.

He recognized that handwriting. After several hundred homework sessions over the years, of course he would know that handwriting. He knew it as well as he knew his own.

Swallowing hard, he decided to take the risk. He turned and glanced back over his shoulder at Haibara Ai, who was replying to something Ayumi was saying. She seemed as calm and collected as ever. But as Genta said something to catch Ayumi's attention, Haibara seemed to notice his scrutiny.

He held up the box, just enough so that she could see it. Haibara looked at it, looked at him, and for a moment, he was certain that he was an idiot, he'd jumped to conclusions, he was dead wrong…

Until she smiled.

**---**

**PS.** _Well, here we go. The first for **fanfic100**! I know, I'm insane, and taking on this challenge is easily the stupidest thing I've ever done. But this was also my first Mitsuhiko/Ai AND a birthday gift for the lovely and talented **TailFluffGirl**, who requested the pairing. Happy birthday, hon! Hope you liked your prezzie!_

_Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	2. Naming

**Title: **Naming  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#29—birth  
**Word Count: **513 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She looked down at their son…and chose a fateful name.

* * *

Childbirth is not exactly a painless experience.

One new mother was in the throes of it—and she was not taking it silently.

The pregnancy itself had been relatively smooth, with few complications…and so there had been nothing to really prepare her for the actual delivery. Still, one of the nurses outside had commented that she'd heard worse: this one had yet to announce to the entire hospital as to what exactly the husband could do with a certain part of himself.

Her husband was beside her, and…well, he was doing what little he could, which mostly consisted of giving her a hand to crush. She was pretty sure his fingers were in pieces, but he was wisely not complaining—not that he had any real room to. Still, he seemed awfully surprised when she released his hand in favor of grabbing his tie and yanking hard, threatening him with strangulation.

"I'm gonna kill you for this, Kudo…" she growled angrily between huffs of pain.

"Yes, dear."

Another hard contraction hit, and she was distracted long enough for him to free his tie from clenched fingers and replace her grip on his hand—that was already bruised beyond immediate repair. Why bother breaking anything else?

"You're going…to die!"

"Yes, dear."

Still, it felt like this had been going on for a while, and nothing really seemed to be happening. Finally, the worried husband flagged down one of the rushing doctors. "Is this…normal?" he asked.

"Don't worry, Kudo-san. Your wife is doing beautifully."

He looked down at her. "…she looks like she's going to die."

The doctor smiled and shrugged. He was obviously no stranger to this activity.

Meanwhile, the young woman at the center of the commotion felt like she was ready to die. She squeezed her husband's hand for all it was worth and tried to follow the doctor's mantra of "Push!" Someone was saying something encouraging…oh GOD it was too much, she couldn't take it…she was going to tear in two…how much longer…

And then suddenly it was over…there was a murmur of noise around her…

…and a high-pitched wail filled the space around her.

It was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.

She held her shaky arms out. "My baby…"

In a short enough order, a small blanket-wrapped bundle was placed into her arms; she pulled it back against her and cradled it carefully, looking down at the miracle of new life. One shaky finger traced over the baby's cheek. She was exhausted…but she just wanted this one moment…

Her husband leaned up on the hospital bed beside her, sliding an arm around her thin shoulders and letting her lean against him. "You said you wanted to name him. Did you decide?" As he spoke, his fingers carefully brushed the ever-present curl back from the center of her perspiration-dampened forehead. His other hand lifted, out of habit, to straighten his glasses.

Kudo Yukiko looked down at the newborn dozing in her arms, thought for a moment…and smiled. "Shinichi," she said finally, choosing the fateful name. "His name is Shinichi."

* * *

**PS.** _I blame **sapphirestars** for this. Entirely. It is all her fault. I'm sure that she knows why. Which is why I'm giving her this fic for her birthday—**Happy Twenty-First!** LOVE! Thanks for reading, everyone—ninety-eight stories to go! …I am going to die. But that's okay. Later, all! Much love!_


	3. What's Best

**Title: **What's Best  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#27—parents  
**Word Count: **1443 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Why are you so hard on that boy, anyway?

* * *

"You're going out with that boy again, aren't you?"

Ran turned away from her mirror and her last-minute hair-check to face her father in the doorway. Frowning, she put her hands on her hips. "Shinichi, Dad. Shinichi. He has a name. Use it." She turned her gaze back to the mirror to continue her quest to eradicate all those imaginary flyaway hairs.

"I don't see why you spend so much time with that boy."

"…well, I'm marrying him. Soon I'll be spending a lot more time around him."

Kogoro's scowl matched hers. "You are turning out more and more like your mother every day, I swear!" Remembering that his errant wife was, in fact, in the house, he dropped his voice to add, "And that is not a compliment, by the way."

"Right," she rolled her eyes and picked up her lip-gloss from the vanity table. It was a pretty pink color, one that she knew looked fantastic on her—and the strawberry flavor certainly didn't hurt matters any, according to Shinichi. It took a mere moment to apply, and she turned to head towards the door.

Apparently, Kogoro wasn't done yet; he blocked the door. "Why are you wearing that stuff? You're still a kid—you shouldn't be wearing that stuff yet!" He glared darkly, as though somehow he could make the make-up vanish from her face.

Ran sighed. "Dad, I'm eighteen. I'm not a kid anymore. And for the record," she smirked, "there's a very good reason why I'm wearing the lip-gloss. Now excuse me please." She pushed past him, nearly knocking him down in the process, and headed towards the stairs.

His sputtering, whining reaction was beautiful. "RAN! You don't tell your father things like that! Honestly, do you want to give me a heart attack??"

"I do it because sometimes, you just deserve it," Ran replied airily, waving the comment off with one hand. "Now knock it off, or you're going to be eating your own cooking for the next week."

Meanwhile, Eri had come out of the office to see what the commotion was all about. She smiled broadly at her daughter. "Ran, you look wonderful. I'm sure Shinichi-kun will be impressed." She winked conspiratorially and laughed.

Standing behind his daughter, Kogoro glowered at them both. "You do realize that if I cook, the apartment might very well burn down?"

Ran was unfazed by the threat. "Hmm…well, then I guess we'll have to crash with Mom for a while, won't we?"

Kogoro's head swiveled back and forth between his smirking daughter and his estranged wife before he finally sputtered out, "Are you insane?!? Cook for me, Ran! Please!"

"Behave yourself," Ran cautioned, victory in her very tone.

Kogoro sighed, obviously defeated. But he bounced back quickly, just as he always did, with another protest. "Ran, look at that boy—at Shinichi's family!" He corrected himself quickly on the name, recognizing the dangerous look in Ran's eyes. "They're crazy! Do you really want to marry into that?"

"Absolutely!" Ran grinned. "And just think, Dad—once Shinichi and I get married, I don't think it'll be too long before you're bouncing your first grandchild on your knee. Won't that be wonderful?"

"…once again, that was something I did not need to know," Kogoro deadpanned, ignoring the fact that Eri was quietly laughing at him. "I swear, Ran, you're pushing me closer and closer to a heart attack."

Ran paused. "Oh…did you not want grandchildren?"

Kogoro sighed. "I don't mind the idea of grandchildren, Ran. It's the…process to get to that point of having children that bothers me." He waved his hands vaguely as he spoke. "No parent wants to think about his daughter doing THAT."

The glint in her eyes was absolutely evil. "Oh, then I probably shouldn't mention that one time when Shinichi and I—oh. Never mind!" She turned and started sauntering down the stairs.

"…the time you and Shinichi did what?" Kogoro growled dangerously.

"…played chess, of course," Ran replied sweetly.

Eri covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her obvious laughter.

"Oh yeah. I'm sure. I bet that was one HELL of a checkmate," Kogoro half-snarled, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I am going to kill Kudo."

"Actually, Daddy, I checkmated Shinichi," Ran tossed her hair and smiled.

Kogoro exploded, yelling in rage, "But I can't kill you! Your mother would kill me! But I _can_ get at him! I bet it was his idea to play chess, wasn't it? WASN'T IT?"

Ran giggled. "Daddy, I love you—but you really don't have a clue, do you? It was actually my idea. We were doing homework at the library. I thought we could use a break."

The stricken look on her father's face was priceless. "I feel a shooting pain…in my arm…" he groaned and staggered to lean against the wall, clutching at the aforementioned arm.

Ran rolled her eyes. "Stop exaggerating." A car pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the Mouri Detective Agency. "Oh, he's here! I'm leaving—see you later tonight!"

"Have fun!" Eri waved cheerily.

"WHY ME?" Kogoro bellowed as his daughter climbed into the car and it pulled away. "And there goes the detective punk, off with my daughter…"

Eri watched passively as he muttered angrily at the vacant stairwell—something about a machete, if she was hearing correctly—before finally speaking up. "Why are you so hard on that boy, anyway?" As she spoke, she turned to walk back into the office.

Kogoro sighed and followed her. "I don't really dislike him. But if I start to be too nice…then he'll get cocky and lazy. He's already cocky enough. Hell, even as Conan he couldn't contain the snark. Plus, I'm a dad, Eri. It's in the handbook."

"It's called being a parent. It's hard for me to let my only child go, too. But," Eri insisted, "you know she'll be protected, secure, and well-cared for." In a surprise move, she reached over and patted his shoulder. "Anata, she found someone she loves—someone who loves her. And there's no denying that he loves her. She knows what's best for her—what will make her happy—and she's taking it. What more could a father want for his daughter?"

"More like she'll be protecting him," Kogoro shook his head. "Maybe we should invest in some karate lessons for him, too. The kid only plays soccer, can't take care of himself! Maybe if he spent less time with those Holmes books…"

"Oh, I don't know about that," she said thoughtfully. "He's very intelligent, and I think he's quite a resourceful young man when the situation arises. As Conan, he certainly proved that he can take care of himself in quite a variety of situations. I think the person he'd most have to protect himself from would be Ran herself."

"Judging by her willingness to play 'chess,' that may not be a problem," Kogoro countered, shuddering at the thought.

Eri's smile was wry. "Did it ever occur to you that she might be pulling your leg, just to get that reaction? Or it might be payback because you're bothering her about it so much? And if they have been, ah, experimenting…" She paused, then shrugged, "…well, I'd like to hope that they're not, but even if they are, I think it's safe enough. I sincerely doubt that they'll break it off."

"She might have been lying," Kogoro mumbled. "Or she might NOT have been lying. But…I guess there's not much I can do about it, is there?" He paused and sighed. "Welcome to the Mouri family, Kudo Shinichi…" He cringed. "Kudo Ran…Mouri Ran sounds so much nicer, doesn't it?"

She chuckled. "Kudo Ran…oh, I think it has a nice ring to it. And she'll be happy with him." She poked him in the arm and gave him a knowing look. "And you wouldn't want anything less than her happiness, would you?"

"Yes, I want her to be happy," Kogoro muttered. There was a pause before he cleared his throat. "So…I'm kind of hungry. Do you…want to grab some dinner?" His expression was nonchalant, but a slight tremor in his voice betrayed nerves.

"Well, I am hungry…" she paused, then nodded. "All right. That sounds nice." She smiled at him expectantly. "Did you have a place in mind?"

"Oh, nothing specific," he waved the question off with a cough. "Maybe…drive around until we find a place we like?" He already had the door open—and surprised her by putting a hand on her back as he walked out with her.

Eri raised an eyebrow and smiled. "That sounds nice."

* * *

**PS.** …_yeah.__Hiatus. WHOO!! Sorry, everyone. School and real life kicked me in the arse, and I burned out. I'm trying to drag myself back to my word processor, slowly but surely. Hopefully we'll start having more regular updates now, so cross your fingers and hope for the best!_

_The chess reference is a tribute to **Imaginator's** awesome Shinichi/Ran fic "Chess." This goes out to a few people who have been poking me for ages and ages to write an Eri/Kogoro fic. You all know who you are. SO TAKE IT:D And a special tribute to **sapphirestars**—she should know why ;) Thanks for reading, everyone. Much love!_


	4. The Annoyance Theory

**Title: **The Annoyance Theory  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#77—what?  
**Word Count: **638 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Some people REALLY don't like being ignored. Very slight shounen-ai.

* * *

It can almost be called the Annoyance Theory. The old adage goes that if you want an irritant to go away, you simply have to ignore them. They might throw even more of a tantrum, but if you refuse to give them your attention, eventually they will tire of it and find other ways to entertain themselves.

And it was about to come into play, unbeknownst to one of the parties involved.

Kaitou Kid, the illustrious Phantom Thief, folded his arms and studied the young man—one, Kudo Shinichi—leaning against the railing that ran around the perimeter of the skyscraper's roof. He'd gotten there and found one of his favorite rivals waiting for him.

This was almost to be expected, and he'd prepared a few new zingers for the verbal banter that was undoubtedly going to occur before he made his getaway. But he wasn't quite prepared to be…

Ignored.

Flat-out ignored—like he wasn't even there, or he was completely invisible. No witty banter, no threats of catching him another time, no insistence that he give up and surrender to arrest. Zilch. Insult was added to injury when Kudo fished a book out of his pocket and started reading.

For one such as Kid, who essentially thrived on being the center of attention, this was not an acceptable state of affairs! He knew he had enough of a lead that he could stay and play for a few minutes before the police would catch up. He sincerely hoped they enjoyed the little present he'd left on the stairs for them—it was amazing, really, the things one could do with silly putty and a few coat hangers.

Ten minutes later, Kudo had turned six pages, and Kid was running out of ideas—yet another rare occurrence. This only added to his increasingly bad temper over the whole affair. He sensed that there was some sort of a battle going on here, and he did not like the fact that he seemed to be losing. But Kudo hadn't reacted to anything!

Finally, Kid did the only thing he could think of—the one thing he was sure the Great Stone-Face couldn't possibly keep up a façade against. He reached out with both hands and grabbed Kudo's cheeks—his facial ones, the other ones were, sadly, pressed up against a railing and thus not available for immediate grope-age.

To Kudo's credit, his expression didn't change a whit when he was grabbed. But his mask shattered into shock and alarm when Kid pounced. "Kissu kissu!"

There wasn't time to move away, and Shinichi found himself faced with a sizable choice: continue the rather unorthodox kiss…or flip backwards over the railing and plummet to his messy, splatty death on the pavement below.

After a few seconds of actually wavering back and forth between the two choices, he decided that death really wasn't an option, and stayed put.

…and he was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't the worst kiss of his life, either.

It was Kid who ended the kiss—not that Shinichi had much of a choice, as he was walled…or railed, as the case may be. The Phantom Thief lingered a moment longer before stepped back. "What was that all about?" he asked, shoving gloved hands into pockets.

"You did exactly what I thought you would do."

"Which was?"

"Throw a tantrum."

"I did not."

"So putting a pigeon on my head and sticking roses in my ears wasn't a tantrum? Then what was it, exactly?"

"Interpretive art. And there are the police. Ja ne, tantei-san!"

In a flourish of white cape and rose petals, he was gone. Off the roof, Shinichi assumed—that was the usual M.O. when it came to Kid's escape. And for once, Shinichi found himself not minding that Kid had gotten away.

* * *

**PS. **_This is all **Jeva's **fault. Completely, one hundred percent. On a recent drabble request I did, she requested Kid/Shinichi, with a prompt of "kissu kissu." So…there ya have it. ZOMG SHOUNEN-AI!! I'll sit here now and watch as everyone runs away..._

_Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	5. Telltale Stain

**Title:** Telltale Stain  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Characters:** General series  
**Prompt:** #40—sight  
**Word Count:** 174 words  
**Rating:** PG  
**Author's Notes:** I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary:** He was staring at her, and it was making her nervous. Eri/Kogoro.

* * *

He was staring.

And Eri was getting nervous.

It wasn't even so much that her estranged husband was staring at her—far from it. It was more that his eyes kept drifting to a certain place. A place where his eyes should certainly not be so fixated. His scrutiny was getting a bit uncomfortable.

"What are you looking at?" she finally snapped.

He jerked back as though he'd been stung. "Well, I…you…"

"Anata—" her tone turned warning.

Kogoro swallowed hard and turned away. "You have a stain…on your shirt."

Eri blinked once, twice, three times (a lady) before looking down at herself. Sure enough, she'd somehow managed to spill coffee on herself at some point and not notice it. Even worse, the stain was at just the right spot to draw attention to…

Oh dear.

Suddenly self-conscious, she tugged at the lapels of her blazer to pull them over the offending spot. "Thank you for telling me. I didn't know," she said carefully. A nice, safe reply.

Kogoro grunted, but said nothing else.

* * *

**PS.** _Written for **RanMouri82** as part of a drabble request I did—the prompt was "coffee stain." I'm really racking up the Eri/Kogoro fics, aren't I? And I promised myself I'd write something for Yuusaku and Yukiko…will get to that eventually. Anyway, thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	6. Two of a Kind

**Title:** Two of a Kind  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Characters:** General series  
**Prompt:** #84—he  
**Word Count:** 179 words  
**Rating:** PG  
**Author's Notes:** I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary:** A very awkward situation, featuring a nice crack-pairing. Conan/Shinichi. Yes, you read that right.

* * *

The two boys stared at each other with identical blue eyes—the smaller one, perhaps a decade younger than his older counterpart, adjusted his glasses and raised an eyebrow. "…what the hell are you doing here?"

"Because the author's on crack," the taller one (who we will call Shinichi) shrugged, shoving his hands casually into his pockets.

The younger one—henceforth known as Conan—shrugged in an echo of Shinichi's movements. "So what's this case all about?"

"Arson," Shinichi pointed towards the smoking remains of what had once been a building. "I know we usually deal with murderers, but this case is extremely interesting."

"How so?"

"Well, we've already got the arsonist," Shinichi replied. "The perp was wearing a T-shirt for a show called Dragonball Z, and he was dragged away, screaming something about a dub."

"…so why are we here then?" Conan asked.

"I have no idea," Shinichi said.

Crickets chirped for a moment.

Finally, Shinichi spoke again. "So…you wanna make out?"

Conan raised an eyebrow. "Aren't we the same person?"

"Do not underestimate my ego."

"…fair enough."

* * *

**PS. **_If you guessed this was a drabble request, you're right. Whew…the prompt was "FUNimation," so I figured I'd just run with it. Yay crack! Thanks for reading, everyone. Much love!_


	7. Food Mood

**Title: **Food Mood  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#58—dinner  
**Word Count: **161 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She could guess Mom's mood just by the dinner preparations. A fun little Aoko ficlet.

* * *

Aya stood in the kitchen doorway, watching with avid fascination as her mother went about the preparations for dinner. Being the bright, observant child that she was, she noticed that Mommy was chopping the vegetables with a great deal of force.

After a moment, she toddled into the kitchen proper and moved to stand beside her mother. She was proud that if she stood on her very tiptoes, she could see over the top of the countertop—that meant that she was growing up. Soon, she would be as tall as Daddy!

She stood quietly for a moment before she spoke up. "What're you doing, Mommy?"

"Making dinner," Aoko replied, not moving her eyes from the cutting board. The poor vegetables at her mercy there were cut up finely enough to make the average food processor turn green with envy.

"What's for dinner?" she chirped.

"Fish."

Aya-chan was silent once more before she sighed. "You're mad at Daddy again, aren't you?"

* * *

**PS.** _Aya-chan is an original character I created in my Nights series—she's Kaito and Aoko's daughter. At present, she's four years old. I originally made her up for one fic, but somehow managed to fall hopelessly in love with my Little Plot Device. So don't be too surprised if she pops up again here and there._

_This goes out (with large amounts of uber-love) to my dear friend **Magic Kaito**, who inspired it over dinner one night, and then let me write it. You are an angel amongst non-angelic things!! And to the rest of you, thanks so much for reading, and I hope you liked it. Much love, all!_


	8. Proving a Point

**Title: **Proving a Point  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#4—insides  
**Word Count: **650 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **You couldn't be a gentleman if your life depended on it! Kaito/Aoko

* * *

Something about the way Aoko sighed caught his attention. Kaito lifted his nose from where it had been properly buried in his hot fudge sundae (such were the important things in life, after all) and looked up at her. "What's up?"

"Just watching," she nodded towards some sight out the restaurant window. He followed her gaze to see a young man across the street opening a car door for a young lady. Judging by the way she put her hand on his and smiled, it was probably his significant other. Once the woman was clear, he closed the car door and offered her his arm; she took it, and they headed into the store across the street.

"…why were you watching that?" he asked.

"Oh, it's just nice to see that there are still gentlemen in the world," she commented, taking another bite of her own ice cream and turning her attention back to him.

Still, there was something about the way she said it that made him pause. "…what is that supposed to mean?" He knew it was a bad question to ask, but his pride wouldn't let that hint of whatever-it-was in her voice go by without question.

Aoko chucked. "Oh, Kaito," she stirred her ice cream in its bowl. "You're usually a very sweet person, but you're not a gentleman by any stretch of the imagination." The way she said it…so matter-of-factly…it bugged him. It bugged him a lot.

"Says who?" he retorted, putting his spoon down and frowning. "I could be a gentleman if I wanted—it's just a lot more fun to flip your skirt!"

"I rest my case."

The rest of the ice cream stop was quite sullen on Kaito's part, though Aoko was as animated as ever. When the last melted drippings had been slurped and the last bit of hot fudge scraped from the inside of their bowls, they headed back out. Kaito had agreed to go shopping with her (which he already knew translated as getting dragged along to whatever store she wanted to visit and carrying whatever packages she accumulated), but now he was thinking that was a bad idea.

She'd said there was another place she wanted to stop, so they headed on their way. Kaito was still sulking a bit at her earlier comment—if she knew about his "night job," she'd probably realize that he was perfectly capable of being the perfect gentleman she was talking about…

But then she'd probably kill him.

Lose-lose situation right there.

But as they went along, he became acutely aware of something. Suddenly, it seemed that everywhere he looked, there were guys doing…stuff. Gentlemanly…stuff. Opening doors for their girls. Offering arms to help their girls up steps. Stepping aside to let any ladies in the vicinity go first.

It was like the whole world had decided to rub Aoko's accusation in his face.

And finally, it all became too much for his pride.

"Fine!" Kaito huffed, and Aoko jumped at the sudden outburst. "You want gentleman? You'll get gentleman. Here—let me get the door for you!" To prove his point, he darted ahead to the entryway of the store she'd said she wanted to go into….

…but he had to wait for a while as Aoko was momentarily doubled over with laughter. She was still wiping away tears of amusement as she walked past him into the shop. She did, however, manage a choked "Thank you, Kaito" on her way inside.

After all, it wasn't every day that a girl had somebody put their foot down to open—and hold—an automatic door for her.

* * *

**PS.** _I saw this little comic in some book my mom had lying around—a guy is opening an automatic door for a girl. And I thought it was hilarious, and immediately had to make it a story :) Hope you enjoyed the little weirdness. Thanks for reading, everyone—much love!_


	9. Sneaking

**Title: **Sneaking  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#50—spade  
**Word Count: **477 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Kaitou Kid hadn't heard the person come up behind him…

* * *

It was a good thing that he was an expert at sneaking.

Kaitou Kid slipped in through the window of the darkened house and crept on silent feet through the hallway. He knew for a fact that the inhabitant of the home was asleep—a fact that, given the hour, was not at all outrageous, either. And he had been raised a gentleman, and a gentleman would not show such bad manners as to wake someone up in such a manner.

So he tiptoed out of the living room as quietly as possible and headed down the hallway towards his ultimate goal. The door was open, and he peered into the darkened room carefully. Seeing no one there, he slipped inside and made his way to the other side of the room, where the real prize was.

The whole situation was all too perfect. He was in, no one had noticed his presence, and so he was more or less free to do as he wished. And right now, he just needed a few minutes to search for exactly what it was that he needed…

Suddenly, the light flipped on.

Kid jumped a mile and whipped around, card gun in his hand, poised and ready to launch an Ace of Spades at whoever had managed to sneak up behind him. He hadn't heard anyone approaching…

And he found himself face to face with the Creature from the Bathrobe Lagoon.

His mother stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest. And she was giving him the kind of look that could freeze water. "What in the world do you think you're doing?" she asked in a low voice.

He took a deep breath to make himself stop shaking and lowered his card gun. "I was just…ya know, getting a midnight snack…Mom—I mean, ma'am?" It belatedly occurred to him that he was still in full Kid regalia, right down the monocle…not that he'd ever deluded himself with the idea that his mother _didn't_ know what he was doing, but still…

She stared at him good and long and hard, with all the force of the Office of Mother behind it.

Kid began to sweat.

…and then she sighed. "Go to bed. You have school in the morning." And she was gone, back up the stairs to return to her own bed and her own slumber, leaving him to stand there with his back pressed against the refrigerator door and his heart hammering against his ribcage.

Kaitou Kid stood motionless for a moment before shrugging and opening the fridge. Finding what he needed, he plopped down at his kitchen table and set about preparing a midnight snack for himself.

Sandwich first. Then bed.

But still, he couldn't quite keep himself from chuckling and reflecting (not for the first time) that he really did have the world's coolest mother.

* * *

**PS. **_For **sapphirestars**, who plunnied me with this. Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	10. Child's Play

**Title: **Child's Play  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#28—children  
**Word Count: **509 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **As near as Kaito could tell, it was something to play with!

* * *

It had been a really, really, really, _really_ long night, Toichi decided. What a heist, indeed. He was exhausted. All he really wanted to do now was crawl into bed and sleep for about two or three weeks.

This was his mindset when he stumbled into his home after everything was said and done. Not bothering to make the trip into his secret room, he dropped a few things on a chair and headed up the stairs towards the blessed sanctuary of bed. He wasn't worried—it wasn't like anyone would come here and find any incriminating evidence. He was quite confident in his skills; they weren't going to find him anytime soon. So leaving it there, just for tonight, was all right.

He did pause long enough to change into pajamas before unceremoniously flopping down on the bed and falling asleep. And lo, it was wonderful.

_**-o-**_

It was Saturday.

And Saturday, as any child knows, meant cartoons.

Bearing this happy thought in mind, Kuroba Kaito, age seven-and-a-half-thank-you-very-much, scampered from his bedroom and down the stairs with all the sneakiness and quiet of a heard of rhinos trampling a dozen pianos.

Never mind that it was six in the morning. Cartoons waited for no one!

But when he skidded into the living rom, he found an unfamiliar something sitting on a chair. Being the curious and inquisitive child that he was, he immediately began snooping to see what exactly this foreign item was.

As near as he could tell…it was something to play with! Score!

_**-o-**_

No one could have slept through that ruckus. Not even a world-class thief. Toichi groaned and looked at the clock. His instincts had been right—it was, in fact, Too Damn Early.

Beside him, his wife shifted under the blankets. "Go out there and break his little legs, would you dear?" she muttered. Obviously, she was as displeased about the wake-up call as he was.

"I'll handle it," Toichi sighed. He rolled out of bed and walked slowly to the door. When he opened it, Kaito was actually just running past their master bedroom…

Wearing a white top hat.

And a cape that was far too long for a child's height.

It was then that Toichi remembered leaving a few things on the chair the night before. Apparently, his son had found them and decided that they were suitable for play. Truly, he was his father's son.

"Dad!" Kaito bubbled. "Check this out!" The kid was far too energetic for this ungodly hour.

"Kaito, give those to me," he instructed, not expecting an immediate obedience.

Sure enough, he got no immediate obedience. Kaito's little face twisted into a full-blown pout. "But I found them."

"Kaito—"

Before he could protest further, the child was off down the hall, the white cape dragging behind him. "I'm Batman! I'm Superman! I am the terror that flaps in the night!"

Toichi watched, smiled, shook his head, and headed after him with the intention of recovering Kaitou Kid's hat and cape from Darkwing Duck over there.

* * *

**PS.** _The "break his little legs" line is a tribute to Calvin and Hobbes. This was written for a fic-swap on the LJ community ManyCases1Truth, with the prompt "I am the terror that flaps in the night!" But I figured it could pull double-duty. And with this story, we have reached double digits. SCORE! Only…ninety left._

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	11. Final Countdown

**Title: **Final Countdown  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#95—New Year  
**Word Count: **819 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Only five seconds left until midnight… Satou/Takagi

* * *

As the long-awaited hour drew near, the Tokyo Metro Police Department's New Year's Party was in full swing. Officers from every department met and mingled and enjoyed themselves thoroughly amidst music, food, and drink.

LOTS of drink. A good many blackmail pictures were undoubtedly being snapped as the evening wore on. There were proving to be a lot of laughs and a lot of surprises.

One of those surprises was definitely Satou-keiji proving exactly how much she could comfortably knock back. She was a little red-faced and laughing a little more loudly than usual as she stood and talked about something with an equally giggly, equally red-faced Yumi.

Takagi felt like he was the only sober one left in the room, though he couldn't decide if that was a good feeling or not. He was standing by the refreshment table, watching everyone else help themselves to various things AND watching the seconds tick by as midnight inched closer. With each little tick, he grew a little more nervous.

So he tried to distract himself by watching Satou-san. Unfortunately, it wasn't working. It was almost That Time, and he still wasn't sure what in heaven's name he was going to do once the clock struck twelve to announce the arrival of the new year.

Tradition held that one was supposed to kiss one's significant other at midnight on New Year's, right? But Takagi hadn't managed to work up the nerve to kiss her at all yet, even under normal circumstances! And now, it was almost an expectation…

He wanted to.

And he was fairly certain that she wouldn't kill him for doing so.

Sometimes he really hated himself for being so shy. Even after they had been together for as long as they had, he still couldn't make himself move forward. He always held back.

He looked down at the table. That punch was starting to look awfully good—all this standing around and thinking and mentally kicking himself in the ass was starting to make him mighty thirsty. He reached over and helped himself to a glass and downed it in one go.

…wow. Suddenly he felt a lot more relaxed. And was it getting warmer in here? Eh, no matter. He quickly helped himself to a second glass and drank it down a bit more slowly.

Takagi wasn't much of a drinker. So after three glasses of happy juice…er, punch (that was totally not spiked, nuh-uh, no way), he was feeling pretty good. And really brave. And not quite so shy.

"One minute!" someone called.

Sixty seconds left.

He needed to get moving.

Everyone else certainly was—moving, that is. They were all gathering around the television to watch the official countdown and cheer. Satou was near the back of the crowd; he made his way over to her, feeling unusually sure of himself.

She turned and beamed at him. "It's almost midnight!"

In spite of himself and how confident he felt, Takagi hesitated for just a moment (he wrote it off to mere habit) before reaching out and grabbing her hand. "C'mon." He gave a little tug to pull her along with him towards the nearest door; he was pleased when she followed him.

Forty seconds left.

Keeping a firm grip on her hand, he led her out of the room and into the hallway, away from the rest of the party. They corridor was darkened, with only the safety lights positioned every few meters to provide illumination.

"Takagi?" she said quietly as he glanced at his watch.

Twenty seconds.

"Look," he said in a rush. "I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner, but you know I'm a coward and I didn't want you to kill me, and…and…" Whatever was in that punch had apparently hinged his tongue in the middle and started it wagging at both ends.

The party was starting the final countdown. "Ten…nine…"

Her eyes were wide and questioning as she waited for him to actually explain, something he was not proving particularly adept at doing.

Takagi grabbed her shoulders and pressed her back against the wall. Both her hands moved instinctively to his waist. Realization was finally dawning as to what exactly was happening here.

Five seconds left.

He listened to the countdown while she waited patiently. Knowingly.

Four…

Three…

Two…

_One…_

Taking a deep breath, he finally let himself kiss her.

It wasn't expert or anything, but it was definitely eager. Takagi felt like he was as high as the fireworks he was sure were all over the New Year's telecast. And judging by the way she was holding onto him and responding, she wasn't complaining at all.

But slowly, the rest of the world came back into focus, and he pulled away…and waited.

Satou was silent for a moment. But finally, she reacted: she smiled. And she reached up with one hand and gently touched his face. "Happy New Year's, Takagi."

* * *

**PS.** _Written for wolf-kun, who asked me for Satou and Takagi with the added prompt of "five seconds left." Hope you enjoyed the sweet little fluff-fic. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	12. Finding Humanity

**Title: **Finding Humanity  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Akai, Akemi (general series)  
**Prompt: **#85—she  
**Word Count: **613 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **It was the stupidest…no, the SECOND stupidest thing she had ever done. Akai/Akemi

* * *

It was quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done. No, that wasn't right—it was the _second_ stupidest thing she had ever done. The first was getting involved with that man in the first place.

It was all so horrible—she knew going into it that it was a mistake. Her life belonged to the Syndicate, and they could do with it as they pleased—there were no illusions about that. As soon as she outlived her usefulness, she would be removed from the picture. No matter how much she wanted to run, to flee and be free of the Organization forever…

But she couldn't run—wouldn't run. Her sister was there…and he was there…those were the only things that made the black cage seem surprisingly attractive. But they were enough. So she let herself be caught up in that lose-lose situation. There was no way out, but at least she had something to hold onto.

Even if she knew it was a lie, that he wasn't what he claimed to be, she clung to it.

He played his role well, though. Right up to and including the moment he kissed her. She let him. She knew what he was and that he had lied to her. By all accounts, she should have pushed him away and told him right then that she knew.

But…no one had ever held her like that. To have that kind of attention paid to her…to have someone actually treat her like a human being or anything other than a tool…her sister was wonderful, but it wasn't the same. So she gave into the temptation and gave into the kiss, just that one time.

And when she closed her eyes, she could actually let herself believe that it actually meant as much to him as it meant to her.

When she told him the truth—that she knew who he was—he was shocked. And he asked her why she didn't say anything if she knew he was just taking advantage of her. It had hurt to hear him say it like that. She knew it to be true, but hearing it come from him like that…it brought tears to her eyes.

Why hadn't she said anything?

Because he made her feel like something.

Because he made her smile.

Because he treated her like a human being.

Even if none of it was true, there were still so many reasons…

But when she turned to him with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, all she said was, "Can't you tell without asking?"

She never saw Akai Shuichi again.

Not long after that, she struck a deal with some of the Syndicate higher-ups: one more job to earn freedom for herself and her sister. Somewhere deep down, she knew that it was yet another lie, that she would never be free. But she agreed to it and took the job.

That job was to become known as the Billion Yen Bank Heist…and she was to die for refusing to tell Gin where the money was.

As she lay dying, a young boy say and talked to her after introducing himself as a detective. He held her hand and heard her last words as the final moments of her wasted life slipped away from her. But it was remarkable…even though this boy knew her to be a criminal…he treated her like a human being.

Like he was sorry for her, even though he didn't know her.

He could see a perfect as a person.

How sad. How tragically ironic, Akemi thought as she died, that someone would only find her humanity in her death.

* * *

**PS.** _Written on request for **RanMouri82** and **magicbulletgirl**—they asked for Akai/Akemi. Man, this was hard to write…there's so little canon for these two. So I hope I was at least partially successful. I like Akemi, even though we haven't had much of her. Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	13. Common Ground

**Title: **Common Ground  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#12—orange  
**Word Count: **452 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **What's that stain on your jacket? A short scene between Nakamori and Kaitou Kid.

* * *

It was a rare moment on a heist when Nakamori-keibu found himself face-to-face with his elusive quarry, Kaitou Kid. And yet here they were, on the rooftop of a skyscraper as helicopters roared nearby and search-lights illuminated the sky around them.

Unfortunately, the Inspector was the only one to have made it that far. No one else had managed to catch up. So he stood alone against this worthiest of adversaries. He knew he had no chance of actually apprehending Kid as the circumstances were now, unless Kid's god-like luck suddenly decided to change.

Fat chance of that happening.

As a search-light scanned over them, he could clearly see the smug, familiar smirk under Kid's moustache. "Excellent work tonight, Nakamori-keibu," the thief said in his usual smooth, confident baritone. "Quite a chase!"

Nakamori opened his mouth to reply, but paused when he noticed something very odd: there was a large orange stain on the front of Kid's jacket. He hadn't even noticed it earlier in all the chaos of the chase and the target going missing right under their noses, but not it seemed painfully obvious. It was startling, because Kid never appeared looking anything less than pristine—quite a feat, considering his rather unusual choice of uniform. And it was because of that fact that he couldn't stop himself from asking. "What's that stain on your jacket?"

Kid looked down at himself, then back up at the Inspector with a wry smile. "Ah, that. Well…it's carrots," he sighed. "My son didn't want to open for the choo-choo."

Nakamori winced, thinking of his own infant daughter at home. Aoko was an adorable, happy baby, but she already had a fierce temper. "I know where you're coming from."

Kid smiled knowingly. "You have a young daughter yourself, correct?"

"Yes. I do."

For a moment, they were connected, no longer predator and prey, but both united on a common ground of understanding as _parents_. It was definitely an unexpected commonality, but it was there.

And then reality came back. Nakamori was a cop. Kid was a thief. They were in the middle of a post-heist chase. Therefore, standing around staring at each other was really a very bad idea.

"On that note," Kid announced, seeming to regain himself, "I must take my leave. A pleasant evening to you, my dear keibu!" With a flourish of cape and a huge poof of smoke, the thief was gone like the phantom that was his namesake.

And while Nakamori-keibu was standing on the rooftop shaking his head and cursing under his breath, Kaitou Kid was gliding towards home and hoping that his eternally-patient wife would be able to erase the mark of little Kaito's dinnertime temper tantrum.

* * *

**PS.** _Before anyone even asks, I have no idea why Toichi was wearing his Kid outfit to feed Kaito. Let's just call it a twist of fate, kay? I don't know why this idea amused me as much as it did, but there you have it. Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	14. Faces

**Title: **Faces  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Yuusaku/Yukiko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#79—when?  
**Word Count: **2071 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She had all the facets of a jewel, and was just as lovely. Yuusaku/Yukiko

* * *

When Kudo Yuusaku had learned that a major studio wanted to take one of his novels and make a movie from it, he was very pleased—particularly being as young of a writer as he was, though he had been lauded by critics and readers alike. It became even more enticing of a deal when he was invited to the set to oversee the progress of the project. And when he was informed that a well-known actress and model, Fujimine Yukiko, was to be the star, he was intrigued. 

He hadn't, however, expected there to be a murder on the set the very first day he appeared there—in some ways, it seemed far too much like something out of one of his own novels. A stagehand apparently decided to just fall over dead. The plot thickened when evidence was found to suggest that the poor man had been murdered. That really didn't surprise him too much—these things seemed to happen in his vicinity for some reason.

But when that evidence pointed toward the leading lady as the culprit, Yuusaku leapt into action to solve the case and clear the lovely woman's name. Though he hadn't actually said anything to that effect, he had been rather taken with the actress, though they had not yet been formally introduced. And though he knew all too well that appearances could be deceiving and that _anyone_ could be hiding a guilty secret, he also trusted his instincts, he also trusted his instincts. And his instincts were telling him that there was far more to this case than initially met the eye.

So Kudo Yuusaku, the novelist, slipped into his…well, it wasn't an alter-ego so much as a different title, worn when the circumstances called for it. The novelist slipped into detective mode, and the detective went to work.

And the detective felt very vindicated when he was able to clear the actress's name in favor of placing legitimate guilt on the shoulders of the assistant director, motivated by a long-held personal grudge.

As the guilty man was taken away by the police and the assembled cast and crew scattered, whispering amongst themselves about everything they had just witnessed, Yuusaku found himself with the perfect opening: the object of his scrutiny was momentarily alone, having just accepted an apology from the police and the producers regarding their suspicions of her. Hands shoved jauntily into his pockets, he approached the young woman. "Fujimine-san?"

She turned and gave him a dazzling smile, one that would have melted far harder hearts than his own. "Kudo-sensei! Thank you so much."

He found himself a bit startled when he realized just how young she truly was—still, the same could be said for him, he supposed. So he returned her smile and bowed slightly. "Of course." He was prepared to say more, but he was interrupted (rather rudely, he privately thought) by an aide informing him that he had a phone call—his editor was on the line. He sighed. It figured, didn't it? His editors were always messing things up for him. "Apologies, but I must be on my way." He bowed again and threw her his most charming smile. "I look forward to seeing you again."

He felt her eyes on his back as he walked out of the room.

**_-o-_**

The next morning, Yuusaku received a rather amused phone call from one of the producers. After commenting on the tragic circumstances of the previous day's murder and thanking him for his timely handling of the matter, the producer finally admitted the real reason he was calling. "You made quite an impression on Yukiko-san, I'll have you know," he chuckled.

Whether the man knew it or not, he now had Yuusaku's undivided attention. "Did I?" he asked, trying to sound…not quite as interested as he felt.

The producer—a man far older than Yuusaku—didn't seem to be fooled. "She seemed quite taken with you. For one, you weren't falling at her feet. You'd be surprised how often that actually happens, the poor girl. I think that really made an impression. That, and the way you handled that murder investigation. She's a pretty sharp one herself."

"I see…" Yuusaku murmured.

"…it seems you're not the only one who made an impression yesterday," the man said after a moment. He sounded…was smug the right word? "Perhaps you should schedule another visit to the set?"

Yuusaku smiled. "Perhaps."

**_-o-_**

"We meet again."

Yukiko was reclining in her chair; she looked up from her script at the voice, and her expression brightened when she saw who had addressed her. "Kudo-sensei!"

Her response to his presence pleased him greatly. "Just watching filming today. I'm looking forward to seeing your performance." Wow…he was really laying on the charm, wasn't he? It wasn't really conscious—it just seemed to be coming out of his mouth.

She blushed at the comment, but gave him a rather sly, knowing smile. "You're well aware of how charming you are, I'm sure."

It was like she was reading his mind or something. Yuusaku was a bit surprised; he did have the grace to at least look a little bit sheepish. "You caught me."

A voice called her name; the director needed her on the set. Yukiko stood up and pressed her script into his hands, still smiling up at him devilishly. "I hope you enjoy watching the shoot today." And she sauntered off towards the set.

Yuusaku was many things, but stupid was certainly not one of them. Still, it took him a minute to add up her actions and comments with the producer's comments during their phone conversation the night before to get it. Or at least think he go it.

Was she…_challenging_ him?

He pondered on it all day as he watched the filming. The young woman was definitely an accomplished and talented actress—there was absolutely no denying that. There was a reason that she was one of the top actresses in Japan at her young age. And she was sharp, very much so. So how to respond to what could be interpreted as an open challenge…

Well, he certainly wasn't known for taking the path of least resistance.

After the day's shoot was over (and it did seem to take forever, in his personal opinion), he paused a moment to speak with the director and producers to express his approval over the approach to the work and the progress of the project. With that done, he went in search of the actress's dressing room. He found it by the simple virtue of asking a runner. He marched right up to the door and knocked, feeling supremely confident—such was his nature, really.

She opened the door. Judging by the half-disheveled state of her hair, she had been shedding her character appearance in favor of her day-to-day look. "Can I help you?" she asked with a smile. There was a hint of suspicion in her tone, expression, and posture.

He didn't bother beating around the bush, or even mess around with greetings or pleasantries. Instead, he cut right to the chase. "Have dinner with me."

Now she looked startled. "What?"

"Have dinner with me," he repeated.

Yukiko crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him with a smile as she leaned against the doorframe. She didn't seem angry or affronted at his boldness, which was probably a good sign. "When?"

"As soon as possible."

She mulled over the idea for perhaps a second or two, then nodded. "All right. Yes."

Yuusaku reached out and carefully took one of her hands in his own. And he couldn't quite hide his triumphant smile at her expression when he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. He straightened. "I'm looking forward to it."

_**-o-**_

As far as dates went—particularly first dates—that went as well as Yuusaku could have hoped. And over dinner, his initial impressions were being proven correct: she was quite a remarkable woman, quick-witted and sharp, and far more than just the pretty face the public knew and loved.

When she casually suggested a walk after dinner, he took it as a very good sign. They made their way down to the riverfront for a moonlight stroll.

"So tell me," she asked after they'd been walking along for a while, "you've known me for all of two days, and you've already asked me for a date. You certainly don't waste time, do you?"

"No, I don't," he replied. "And you said yes."

"I know."

They walked along in silence for a few more meters before Yuusaku spoke up again. "You're making an awful lot of jokes at my expense. Did you accept my offer just to make fun of me?" It wasn't a harsh question, but more asked in jest.

"Maybe."

"Really?"

"No."

"Mind if I ask why you accepted, then?"

Yukiko stopped and looked at him. For a moment, he wondered if she was angry over the question. But she just shook her head ruefully. "Aren't you supposed to be a great detective?"

He remembered what he had been told about the admittedly-charming young actress and his own observations, and formed a hypothesis. "Because I waited that extra day?"

Now she looked more uncomfortable than anything else. "It's…refreshing for someone to actually seem interested in me, and not the actress. Or at least…I hope…?" she looked at him entreatingly.

Yuusaku thought back to the evening and dinner and their conversation and the quick-witted woman who most only knew as that beautiful, alluring actress. "I'm intrigued by the whole person. The actress might not be all there is to you, but it is what the most people see. There are several sides to you, I'm finding—I would imagine that there's a part of you that's extremely insecure to balance out the usual confidence you show to the world?"

By the look on her face, he figured he was right. And he also assumed who knew her as an actress and model had taken the time to actually pay that kind of attention or show that sort of insight into her actual character. But now…standing on a sidewalk on a clear night alongside a moonlit river as the wind swept past them…they barely knew each other, yet they were having what could only be called a moment.

"…you _are_ a detective," she finally said. "Or is that just one of your faces?"

"I have quite a few faces of my own—the detective, the novelist, or just the guy who likes to tease people," Yuusaku replied. "And I think all of them are fascinated by you."

Yukiko's blush was evident, even in the near-darkness. "You might be too charming for your own good, sir. Or for my good."

"It could be argued," he admitted, walking towards her. He stopped less than an arm's length away. "Or it could just be that I'm very honest."

"You're also very forward, aren't you?" she raised an eyebrow.

"When it's called for."

She shook her head wryly and turned to continue walking along the riverside path. She barely made it one step before he touched her arm. When she looked back up at him, he was still smiling. "I think it might be called for now."

He had really planned on doing it himself…but he was absolutely stunned when she beat him to the punch. She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a quick, chaste kiss right against his lips. It wasn't much, but it was definitely enough to freeze him in (admittedly pleasant) surprise. She pulled back almost immediately and grinned. "I think you're right." And she started walking again, leaving Yuusaku standing there in a stupor, having just had the rug snapped out from under him.

But he shook it off and watched her as she walked ahead—she was walking very slowly, as if inviting him to catch up to her. She was really incredible, an enigma wrapped up in a very attractive package. A person with all the facets and all the beauty of a precious jewel. He was being drawn to that like a moth to a flame, and it was not an unpleasant feeling.

Now grinning from ear to ear, Yuusaku jogged to catch up to her and continue walking.

It was official—he was completely intrigued.

And hopefully, she wouldn't mind him sticking around for a while.

* * *

**PS.** _Iyaaaan…this was hard to write! But **sapphirestars** requested from me Yuusaku and Yukiko's first kiss. So here it is, delivered as best I can. There's not a whole ton of canon about these two, so creative liberties may apply. Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	15. Getting Started

**Title: **Getting Started  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#1—beginnings  
**Word Count: **763 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **When did we start calling each other ahou? Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

After a lifetime of denials, it wasn't easy to immediately adjust to the new labels of boyfriend and girlfriend—to say nothing of dealing with even more merciless teasing from their classmates at school. But overall, Kazuha felt like it was all totally worth it—especially given how long she had waited for this…waited for him.

She had actually confided that to Heiji once, not too long after they had agreed to try taking their unique relationship beyond friendship. She told him _just_ how long she had been waiting for him. Kazuha had half-expected him to gloat, or even laugh! But instead of preening or ridiculing her, he just sort of smiled and said, "Really?"

Whatever had really been going through his head then, it certainly hadn't impeded things between them, as evident by the fact that he had casually suggested a walk in the park…and then maybe lunch?

She chuckled at the subtle addition of food. Heiji was a black hole on legs when it came to eating; he had been that way for as long as she could remember. So long as he had food, kendo, and mysteries…and her…he was a very, very happy guy.

But she cheerfully accepted his invitation, and off they went.

Before long, though, they were doing what they really did best: they were arguing and calling each other by the pet name they had adopted so long ago. It was "ahou" this and "ahou" that.

In the midst of the battle, Kazuha suddenly stopped in her tracks. "Heiji," she said slowly, "when _did_ we start calling each other that?"

Heiji's temper went from heated to non-existent in point-two seconds. "Huh?"

"Ahou, I mean," she clarified. "When did we start with that?"

He actually seemed to think about it for a moment. "I really can't remember. We've just…always called each other that, I think." He grinned. "Wow…we really do go all the way back, don't we?"

"We do," she agreed. "Though sometimes I wonder how exactly we made it this far—especially you." Her expression grew wicked. "With all those murderers around and all the situations you get yourself into? How are you still alive?"

"Hey!" he looked indignant, signaling that another argument was probably brewing.

"You know I'm right!" Kazuha snorted. "Somebody's definitely smiling down on you, 'cause if they weren't, you would be long gone by now." She reached out and stuck a finger under the collar of his shirt; he started to jerk away, but she had already hooked the digit around the cord that held his omamori and pulled the charm from where it usually rested under his shirt. "I wonder if this has anything to do with it." She pulled her own omamori out and looked at it as well. "Pretty sure mine has kept me safe from some of your more stupid adventures." He always professed that he didn't believe in such things, so she would tease him about it, just to get him riled up.

Heiji opened his mouth with obvious intent to retort and argue…until his gaze slid sideways. Then his expression changed in record time from anger to alarm. "WATCH OUT!!" One of his hands grabbed at her waist and jerked her forward, off the sidewalk and onto the grass…

Just in time to avoid getting nailed by a kid going top speed on his bike.

As the danger passed, Heiji couldn't quite keep himself from making a joke. "So that thing protects you…how, exactly?"

"Shut up," Kazuha glared before she smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Not so long ago, the very idea of having their arms around each other like this—_especially_ in a public place—would have sent both of them into blushing, stuttering fits of denial. Now…it just felt natural. Still, she stepped back—or tried to. But she made it about half a step before she was stopped by the omamori around her neck. It had gotten caught around Heiji's, temporarily linking them together.

Both muttered half-embarrassed disclaimers and reached up to try and remedy the situation. All they really succeeded in doing was getting their fingers caught up as well…and almost smacking foreheads in the process.

Kazuha looked up…and realized just how close they truly were. And he wasn't freaking out or running away in terror or anything. That was definitely progress. In fact, he was just sort of…

Oh…

"…would you kill me if I…?" he asked after a moment.

"No."

"Good."

As he kissed her for the first time, she couldn't help but think that it was sweet of him to ask.

* * *

**PS.** _This was written on request for **girlquinn**. And **strawberry-chan**? Keep bugging me about Heiji and Kazuha fics like that, and I will NEVER WRITE THEM AGAIN. EVER. EVER EVER EVER._

_…EVER._

_To everyone else, thanks for reading. Much love, all!_


	16. Eye of the Beholder

**Title: **Eye of the Beholder  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#80—why?  
**Word Count: **1642 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Kaito/Aoko

* * *

Aoko hadn't meant to tell Kaito that she loved him. It was an honest, humiliating mistakes to hear those three fateful little words pop out of her mouth in his presence. And she was left to stand with both hands clasped over her mouth and stare at him, horrified. 

He was standing on the other side of the room, gaping right back at her, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Like he couldn't believe she would have the nerve…

And she was frozen. She didn't even have the presence of mind to run or make an exit.

"Aoko, I…wow…" he tried to respond, but trailed off. "I…I'm flattered…"

She winced at that word. _Flattered_. That meant (to her now frantic mind) that it was really very sweet of her to notice how awesome and amazing he was—now would she please get in line and join the ranks of his other fangirls?

Kaito opened his mouth again to speak, but she cut him off. "Please don't say anything—I already know what you're going to say." At his blank look, she added, "You're going to tell me to leave, right?" She was proud that her voice trembled only a little bit. "Or you're going to laugh at me?"

The stunned expression had faded away at her words; now he looked absolutely bewildered. "No, I'm not. Why would I…Aoko, what are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say anything," she babbled on, feeling ready to cry.

She was so wrapped up in her stammering disclaimers that she barely noticed that he had made his way across the room. When his hands grabbed her shoulders, she jumped. "Calm down," he said firmly. "Don't freak out on me."

Aoko dropped her gaze to study the pattern on his T-shirt. "Kaito…I'm sorry."

"…why?"

Her eyes snapped back up. "What?"

"Why are you sorry?" he asked, a bit more gently this time. "Are you sorry that you have feelings for me? Or are you sorry that you told me about it? Or are you more scared than sorry?"

Now she gaped at him. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Look right through me. Manage to get everything in perspective like that for me," she whispered.

Kaito smiled. "I just know you that well." He paused, then added, "You're scared, right?" At her mute nod, he pressed, "Because you think I won't want anything to do with you or something like that?" Another nod of assent. He snorted. "Baka. Why would I do that?"

"Because it'll be all weird, won't it?" she replied, gesturing nervously with her hands. "Because you know how I feel, and there's no way you could possibly feel anything like that about me—"

He cut her off. "Why not?"

"Why not what?" This conversation was starting to sound like a broken record.

"Why is there no way for me to feel anything for you?" he elaborated.

She stared at him like he had just grown an arm out of his forehead and flipped her the bird with it. "Do you want that list alphabetically? There's a ton of reasons."

"…such as?" he let go of her and crossed his arms. One dark eyebrow arched in obvious amusement as he waited for her answer.

For some reason, the fact that he seemed to find this funny enraged her. But she kept a lid on her temper and crossed her own arms in an echo of his posture, more in defiance than anything else. "Such as? I'm loud, I'm always saying mean crap to you, I chase you with a mop, I'm as far from ladylike as you can possibly get, I look like a boy—"

He had been listening as she tallied off each point. But it wasn't until that last that he interrupted her. "You speak your mind, you tell me when I'm being stupid, you keep me in line, ladylike is really boring, and you do not look like a boy. Congratulations—you are wrong on all counts."

"Have you looked at me?" Aoko huffed. "And why is ladylike boring?"

"Yes, I have looked at you, and I have no objections to looking at you more," he said airily. "And ladylike is boring because it doesn't seem to allow for fun. All prim and proper…blech!" He made a face. "No thank you. If I want a doormat, I'll go to a hardware store and buy one. I'd rather have a woman."

Aoko decided that he had a point on that count. But on the other issue…she really didn't want to stand there all night and tell him about her own insecurities. She had already made enough of an idiot of herself tonight. No sense in doing any further damage. "You know…I should go." She started to back up with the intention of making a quick exit.

But he wasn't having any of it. She didn't expect Kaito's face to change so quickly—it went from his usual calm, teasing expression to a shuttered look. She could now longer read him. And she certainly didn't expect him to stalk forward and grab her wrist. She instinctively tried to pull away, and he replied by pulling her back, spinning her to press her back against his chest.

…and then he put his hands over her eyes.

Aoko went from panicked to bewildered in point-two seconds. "Kaito? What are you doing?"

"Why don't you think you're pretty?"

She sighed; he was too damn persistent sometimes. "I just don't see myself that way. I mean, do you look in the mirror and think you're hot?"

There was a pause before he replied. "Well, I am definitely aware that I am not totally unfortunate looking. And I am nowhere near as hard on myself as you are," he replied delicately.

"You look in the mirror and think to yourself, 'Damn, I'm fine'? You're serious?"

"On occasion."

"Unbelievable…"

"I just killed your entire argument, didn't I?" Now Kaito sounded very amused.

"Why are you holding onto my face?" she countered, deftly changing the subject.

Given their positions relative to each other, Aoko found herself being pulled along when Kaito started moving. She nearly fell over at the sudden motion, but managed to keep herself upright as she was half-dragged along to…wherever it was that he was taking her.

She knew Kaito's house as well as she knew her own, so she was able to get some sort of a bearing on their location. But if they were where she thought they were when he stopped…what the hell?

But sure enough, when he pulled his hands away from her eyes…they were standing in the bathroom, in front of the mirror. He was behind her, half-trapping her between his own body and the vanity counter. And he was grinning.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at him via her reflection. "Kaito, what are you doing?"

"Proving a point," he said cheerily.

"And what point could you possibly be proving by dragging me in here by the face?" she asked, then quirked a brow. "Other than the fact that you are extremely weird."

He seemed unfazed by her jibe. "I want you to look at yourself. Take a really good look. How can you tell me that you don't think you're pretty? I want to know…because I don't understand."

"Kaito…" she was really taken aback at how hard he was really hammering this point. He seemed genuinely…was offended the right word?—offended that she didn't see herself the same way he did. But…if he was so intent on this…what did that mean about his feelings for her? Could he like her? Or was he just acting as a friend, concerned about her seeming lack of confidence? It certainly was possible to think another person was attractive without feeling anything for them…but on the flip-side, couldn't a person's feelings make the object of his affections seem beautiful in his eyes, no matter the reality? So much seemed to be held in the eye of the beholder…

"Come on, Aoko," he said, the faintest note of pleading in his tone.

She sighed. "Kaito, just forget it."

He looked disappointed. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"I obviously don't."

He was quiet for a minute before he said, "Smile."

"Huh?"

"Smile."

As she processed this strange request, he slid both his arms around her waist and let his chin rest on her shoulder in a close, intimate position.

Now a little bit nervous, she obliged…sort of—a little half-smile. "Why should I smile?"

He grinned at her reflection. "You should smile because you're beautiful."

She turned her head to look at him, no little surprised that he would just come out and say something like that; he shifted as well, moving so he could look straight at her, still holding her. They were no strangers to physical proximity, but now they were almost close enough to…actually, they were close enough to…but would he—did he—could he possibly want to…?

Apparently he did—he moved his head forward and kissed her.

For the life of her, Aoko couldn't quite remember how to breathe.

When they parted, she gaped at him for a few seconds. Then, slowly, the biggest smile imaginable made its way onto her face. She probably looked like an idiot…but he seemed pleased, and he nudged her gaze back to the mirror. "There. Beautiful."

Aoko still wasn't sure if she was pretty or not. She was her own worst critic, after all. But maybe she was…whatever the case, she was beautiful in Kaito's eyes. And somehow, until she could find a way to look through his eyes and see what it was that he saw in her, she decided that his opinion was the only one that really, truly mattered.

* * *

**PS. **_I promised **Fyli-chan** a fic detailing Kaito and Aoko's first kiss about a hundred years ago…and I'm finally delivering. YAYNESS! And I also want to shout out to **sapphirestars**, who inspired a certain part of this story. I wanted to write angst, but the Kaito and Aoko hand puppets were just feeling too damn cheery for it—yes, I said hand puppets. What, you think these stories write themselves? And now that everyone thinks I am totally weird, I'm going to go to bed._

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	17. Human Shield

**Title: **Human Shield  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Matsuda, Satou (General series)  
**Prompt: **#26—teammates  
**Word Count: **247 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **They were partners. Teammates. Fighters for a common cause. But still... Satou/Matsuda

* * *

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

Satou whirled around just as Matsuda made full-body impact, knocking her flat back against a wall as bullets whizzed past them. He pushed her against the rough bricks, acting as a human shield.

She closed her eyes and held onto his waist and waited for the hail to subside--judging by the sound of the approaching sirens, help would be there very shortly. So it was just a matter of waiting and not getting hit.

But instead of focusing on the situation and the fact that they could both be killed...she found her attention drifting to something else. Namely, Matsuda--pressed right up against her. She could feel every hurried breath he took, every little movement he made...his heart was hammering in his chest, and his breath was warm against her neck.

Without really meaning to, she moved her head slightly to press her cheek against his. It was close...intimate. The air was almost buzzing with tension, of thoughts that weren't meant to be voiced and never intended to be acted upon. They were partners. Teammates. Fighters for a common cause. But still...

He stayed there, keeping her pleasantly trapped against the wall for far longer than was necessary--certainly long after the danger had passed, as the sound of back-up arriving drifted to where they were. But finally, he moved back and cleared his throat. "You all right?"

She swallowed hard and hoped her face wasn't too red. "Yes. I'm fine."

* * *

**PS.** _Written for **Hakaisha**. See, I did a kink-fic request meme (yes, you read that right), and she requested these two with a prompt of "up against a wall." And so I wrote it, with a foot-note of "MOO HA HA NO SMUT FOR J00!!!" But then I went and looked at it again and thought that for a character/pairing I have never written before…this didn't turn out half bad. So here it is. For your reading enjoyment._

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	18. Talking Dirty

**Title: **Talking Dirty  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Satou/Takagi (General series)  
**Prompt: **#37—sound  
**Word Count: **253 words  
**Rating: **PG-13 (for language)  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She seemed calm. Like she hadn't just made his brain explode. Satou/Takagi, language warning

* * *

They were just walking along, calm as can be, when out of the blue, Satou asked Takagi a question. "Do you want to fuck me?"

If there was ever a question that could freeze the shy officer in his tracks, that would be it. He stopped cold and stared at her, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "W-what?"

"I asked if you want to fuck me," she said calmly, like she was merely discussing the weather or something equally mundane. Like she hadn't just made his brain explode both from the language and the force of running through every possible ramification of that question and his answer.

"W-well...I...umm..." Takagi couldn't get his mouth to cooperate for the life of him. He was far too busy trying to get his mind to stop thinking things like that! But Takagi had never really had much luck reining his imagination in--especially where Satou was concerned, and holy crap he was probably going to burst into flames if this didn't stop...

And then he noticed that Satou was giggling. "I was just kidding," she laughed; she patted him on the head and walked ahead, still obviously amused at the reaction she'd gotten out of him.

Takagi stared after her, lost in his thoughts and the melodious sound of her laughter. Now that was just downright mean...but since she was walking ahead of him, now he actually had a good view of her...

He needed to stop thinking. Like right now.

Thinking was the enemy.

* * *

**PS.** _Written for **wolf-crossbreed**, also on that lovely little smexy meme. LJ memes churn out lots and lots of ficcage for Auntie Candy-chan, in case you hadn't noticed :) I don't know how in character this, but damned if the idea didn't amuse me to no end. Poor Takagi. He's so cute. I want to cuddle him!_

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	19. Sweet

**Title: **Sweet  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#39—taste  
**Word Count: **469 words  
**Rating: **PG-13 (for some sexuality)  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **The games one can play with a fruit tray… Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

When Kazuha brought a fruit tray into their bedroom with the excuse that she was hungry, Heiji had privately thought her insane. But it did look rather tasty, and she seemed pretty set in the idea, and she was wearing a rather skimpy negligee, which definitely didn't hurt her case any. So in the end, he held his tongue while she crawled into bed, setting the plastic tray on the bedspread for easy access, and started the movie again. After a few minutes, he helped himself to a piece of watermelon.

It wasn't long before she was rather comfortably snuggled against him, sitting next to him with her back pressed to his chest and his arm around her waist. Once she had assumed that particular position (and with his head positioned much higher than hers, he did have a rather good view of...certain areas) it was only a matter of seconds before he had the obvious idea.

He selected a chunk of pineapple and brought it to her lips instead of his own. She hesitated, obviously surprised, but ate it nonetheless. He smiled and this time grabbed an orange slice and did the same thing. But when he reached for a peach slice, he changed the game: he brought it to just under her mouth and dragged the end of it down her neck and chest towards the open top of her nightgown and back up to her lips.

Judging by the sound she made, she did not mind this at all. And she certainly didn't protest when he rolled over and got on top of her, careful not to upend the fruit tray. And so the experiments began in earnest. Different fruits, different tastes...all so delicious.

He got an especially good reaction when he accidentally dropped a grape into her cleavage--it was really was unintentional, but the sound she made when he fished it out with his tongue was delightful. That was also the time when he decided that she was far too clothed for his tastes, and remedied the situation.

So far, it seemed that pineapple tasted the best when dragged along the skin and lapped up, while fishing for grapes got a wonderful response. And it was actually sort of adorable when she grabbed a strawberry and held the larger end in her mouth, inviting him to have a bite. He did, and kissed her, two tastes mingling into a delicious whole. It was fun to play around like this, he decided.

By the time it was all done and he let himself sink back down into her arms as they rode the crest down from the peak, they were both rather sticky...and once their passion had hit, they had forgotten about the tray, which now lay upended on the floor beside their bed.

Whoops.

* * *

**PS.** _Written for **strawberry**. Who is a prat. But I love her deeply, and this actually came out all right, so I will let her off the hook…THIS TIME! Insert evil laughter here, and a reassurance that yes, I will write you that other fic you asked for. Eventually. In other news, I love LiveJournal memes!_

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	20. Interruptus

**Title: **Interruptus  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Satou/Takagi, Shiratori, Ai (General series)  
**Prompt: **#78—where?  
**Word Count: **1,171 words  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **He didn't realize how far a certain person would go to be uninterrupted. Satou/Takagi.

* * *

Shiratori was stubborn, smart, and driven. These were traits that had helped him move up rapidly through the ranks of the Tokyo Metro PD. He was a very well-respected officer, and had earned that reputation. 

However, he'd always had one major blind spot. Her name was Satou Miwako, and she was a fellow officer on the force. She was smart, tough, resourceful, and beautiful. And so she was the object of many a cop's affection, including his own. A good many assumed that of all the officers who pursued her, she would eventually choose the charming Shiratori. There seemed no immediate reason to consider otherwise.

But one of the things so many loved and admired about Satou was her spirit, which frequently led her to defy all expectations. And so she had chosen another, a shy young man named Takagi, her partner on the force. Quiet, a bit awkward, but bright and dedicated (and no little smitten with Satou himself), Takagi seemed as stunned as anyone by her choice.

Things progressed, as they have a tendency to do, and finally, the announcement of their engagement and subsequent wedding came about. By the time that happened, most of his co-workers at police headquarters had accepted Satou's choice and stopped sending Takagi death-threats over lunch.

Still, Shiratori was still having some difficulties accepting that he had lost Satou. And as such, he wasn't necessarily thinking too clearly. So when he overheard a certain conversation…well, he didn't dismiss the idea as ludicrous, as he rightfully should have.

The conversation in question took place between the anxious groom-to-be, Megure-keibu (who seemed quite delighted by the whole proceedings), and Kudo Shinichi (who was rumored to be nearing altar plans himself, having returned to the very patient love of his own life). Takagi seemed no little flustered, considering that they were joking around and needling him about certain aspects of married life—more…practical things. And a certain comment was made…

Now, Shiratori was a good police officer, but he could be remarkably dense sometimes, to say nothing of having a total one-track mind. After all, he had used police tools and resources to spy on a date between Satou and Takagi…and then tried to sabotage it with that information. He just didn't think that well when she was concerned. So when he overheard that teasing, semi-innocent conversation, he somehow came to a very strange conclusion.

Which was why he was here now. Satou had mentioned to Yumi that she and Takagi were spending their wedding night here, in this hotel. So naturally, the entire force knew within the hour. Most officers had listened with a nod or a joke or three about throwing things at the window. But Shiratori was the only one who had actually shown up, following the rather insane thought that if he could somehow delay the…consumation of the union, it would derail everything.

Never said it made sense. But as stated previously, he'd always had a blind spot when it concerned Satou. Trouble was that the blind spot was approximately the size of the Empire State Building.

It hadn't been too terribly difficult to find out what the room number was. For reasons normal people would probably not grasp, he felt very pleased with himself. And so he marched up to the room and confidently knocked on the door. He heard murmuring voices inside, and a couple seconds later, the door opened.

Shiratori went from smug to shocked in point-one-three seconds. "What the—what are you doing here?"

Haibara Ai gave him a passive look. "We're having a slumber party." She gestured towards the hotel room behind her, where the other members of the Shounen Tantei (Genta, Ayumi, and Mitsuhiko) seemed to be watching a movie. Furthermore, Mouri Ran was sitting in a chair, also engrossed in the television screen. It seemed that she was acting as a chaperone for the kids.

"Why are you here? I thought—"

"Satou-keiji offered us the room," she explained. "She said we could have a party. And we accepted."

"But—but where is Satou-san?" he asked. He also belatedly realized that she wasn't Satou anymore, but he really didn't want to think too much about that. It made him angry.

"…why do you want to know?" Ai raised a brow. "It's her wedding night, isn't it?"

Shiratori gaped, realizing that he was unable to think of a reasonable explanation. He couldn't even say it was work-related—that would be disproven in record time. Any intelligent woman (which she definitely was) would have made certain to take time off work to go enjoy her honeymoon without any worries.

And Haibara was giving him that same deadpan look from her much shorter vantage-point. He got the sinking feeling that she had pretty much guessed what he was doing here—and he did not like it.

But that still didn't answer the burning question: where were the newlyweds?

**_-o-_**

Meanwhile, in another hotel on the other side of the city 

Miwako chuckled as her new husband turned to look nervously at the locked door for at least the fifteenth time in the last ten minutes. "Relax. No one's going to bother us. I promise."

"Are you sure?" he asked, still looking vaguely paranoid.

She began to laugh. "Oh, I'm absolutely sure." She cheerfully told him of her plan—dropping the word to Yumi about where they would be staying to make certain that everyone knew about it, then giving the room to the kids for the night. The only person who knew where they actually were was Mouri Ran—she'd had to tell someone about her brilliant plan before she exploded! And not only was Ran-chan totally trustworthy in such matters, but she had also volunteered her services as a chaperone for the children.

Wataru stared at her in awe…and now not just because she happened to be wearing a short, silky robe of a matching nightgown. "You really went to all that trouble?"

"Yes, I did," she beamed. "I didn't want any interruptions."

He blushed—still so shy, even at this point in the game.

Now her smile softened. "So are you going to sit over there all night or what?" She herself was sitting on top of the bedclothes, her knees curled under her in a pose of…well, seductive innocence was probably the best way to describe it.

"I…oh, right." Slowly, he got up and moved to take the other side of the bed. Once there, he finally decided to just ask. "Aren't you nervous? At all?"

She chuckled. "Of course I am. But I love you, so I'm sure that everything will be just fine."

Somehow, that gave him confidence. He swallowed hard, reached out, and drew her to him for a kiss.

And somewhere, from a hotel room at the other end of Tokyo, a man could be heard screaming, "WHY, GOD, WHY??" But nobody really cared…except the other people in the hotel, who told him in no uncertain terms to shut the hell up.

* * *

**PS.** _I think this was originally inspired by **RanMouri82**, with her hilarious comment about Takagi letting himself be interrupted every time something almost happens with Satou—she asked if they were going to interrupt their wedding night too or what? And I ran with it. Man, this was fun. And I really don't like Shiratori that much (despite the fact that I made him sympathetic in **The Best Man**), so it was fun to mess with him here. So…yeah._

_And with this, we are a fifth of the way through the fanfic100 challenge! Twenty themes down...eighty to go. Seems kinda pitiful when I put it that way, huh? But I'm still happy. And just think--five more fics, and I'll be a quarter of the way done! SQUEE!  
_

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	21. In a Hurry

**Title: **In a Hurry  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito/Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#23—lovers  
**Word Count: **# words  
**Rating: **R (for sexuality, just to be safe)  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Kaito was in the mood, and there wasn't much time. Kaito/Aoko, sexual content (but nothing too graphic)

* * *

Kaito was in the mood and in a hurry. Granted, she didn't realize this until he grabbed her and kissed her; she hadn't even heard him come up behind her. By the time her back hit the wall, he already had both hands under her shirt and was drawing that first moan from her. 

Aoko just tangled her fingers in his hair and held on for the sweet, sweet ride as he pulled haphazardly at her clothes, exposing the most important areas, before he actually slid his hands under her thighs and lifted her feet off the ground. It almost made her wish she hadn't worn a skirt that day--the boy wasn't having to work for it nearly as much as he should.

But the thought was lost in the ensuing moments. Something about it sent everything else into a hazy fog to wait until she was ready to think rational thoughts again. In the meantime, she rocked in time to his hurried pace and gave herself over.

When it was over, he pressed his forehead against her shoulder and held her until the waves had washed over them and faded away. He eased her feet back to the floor and sheepishly adjusted his tie and white coat. "Sorry," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her neck. "I couldn't help myself."

She belatedly realized that her own wardrobe was askew, and set about pulling her own shirt back into place. "Better get going. Don't want to be late." She did pull him close for one more kiss before sending him on his way. The police and the fanclub were waiting for him.

She could _almost_ pity those silly fangirls. They had no way of knowing that Kid had already been caught.

* * *

**PS.** _Written for **socchan**, who insists that I can write full-on smut. I beg to differ ;o; But anyway, yes. I hope you enjoyed the mini-read. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	22. In the Closet

**Title: **In the Closet  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi, Kaitou Kid (General series)  
**Prompt: **#81—how?  
**Word Count: **301 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Eh, it could be worse.

* * *

This whole night had gone horribly, tragically, awfully wrong somewhere along the line.

What was the tip-off for that statement, you might ask?

Well, for Shinichi, the clear sign that things had gone tremendously awry was that he was currently stuck in a closet with none other than International Criminal 1412, otherwise known to his adoring fans and not-so-adoring Taskforce as the phantom thief Kaitou Kid. Not only that, but their positions (as relative to each other) left a lot to be desired, in Shinichi's humblest of opinions.

Specifically, Shinichi had his face squished flat against the back wall of the closet, and Kid was squeezed in behind him, pressing right up against him—it really wasn't a very big closet.

Granted, they had ducked in here to avoid some shooters who thought they were fair game, but still!

This was not a good night. Not at all.

Shinichi fidgeted as much as his current position would allow. "This sucks."

He felt Kid shrug. "Eh, it could be worse."

Shinichi would have glared at him if he could've turned his head that far, to say nothing of not being able to actually see in the dark. So instead, he just glared at the wall on principle. "Oh really? And how, pray tell, could this be worse?"

There was a beat before Kid replied. "I could be interested," he said delicately.

It took a moment for Shinichi to realize exactly what the thief meant—though given the way they were standing, it shouldn't have been that much of a mystery. When the light bulb clicked on (figuratively, not literally—the closet was still quite dark), the Great Detective of the East did something few had ever seen him do before.

He headwalled. "You're not making the hate go away."

"…sorry, sweetie."

"Hate."

* * *

**PS.** _I'm blaming this on Jeva, even though she had nothing to do with it. Just so everyone knows. EET EEZ TOTALLY HER FAULT!! This was another one of those scenes that was living in the Junk Drawer that is my mind, and I finally decided to just use it somewhere. Hope you enjoyed it!_

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	23. Vengeance: Movie Marathon

**Title: **Vengeance: Movie Marathon  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito, Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#6—hours  
**Word Count: **496 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Aoko gave Kaito a choice—he could deal with her father, or just with her…

* * *

Kaito couldn't help but feel nervous. Not that he let it show or anything, but this was really as close to full-out petrified as he could ever remembering coming…with the possible exception of a couple incidents involving automatic weapons, but that was a different story all together.

The reason for his current state? There were three, actually.

One: Nakamori Aoko.

Two: Kaitou Kid.

Three: The former now had rather intimate knowledge of the latter.

Hence, Kaito was alarmed and apprehensive as she paced back and forth in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back as she strolled like some plotting drill sergeant. It somehow seemed appropriate to think of her in that way at that moment, considering that she was deciding his fate. His freedom hinged on her decision…but it felt like he had been waiting for quite a while.

Finally, she stopped and looked down at him from her suddenly-imposing height. Or maybe it was just that she was standing while he was sitting. "Kaito," she thundered—had she always been able to do that, he wondered? "You have to pay. But I'm feeling very generous, so I'm going to give you two options. Number one—you can suffer at my father's hands, and you know exactly what that means. Number two—you can let me pick your penalty, which means Dad won't know…but I promise you it won't be pretty. Take your pick."

He pondered about two seconds before he answered. "You." He knew that whatever she would come up with would be absolutely horrible, but if it meant keeping his freedom…he would just have to suck it up and suffer through it.

Still, when Aoko smirked in a manner far too like himself to be comfortable, he wondered if maybe he should have just risked jail time. "All right. Let's get to it."

**_-o-_**

When Kaito's mother came home, she found a rather surprising sight: namely, Aoko had Kaito bound on the couch…and she seemed to be sitting on his back to keep him in place. And Kaito himself was pale and wide-eyed and babbling like a lunatic. He seemed a hair away from frothing at the mouth.

Before she could even ask, Aoko piped up. "He's being punished."

His mother moved further into the room to see what exactly had induced this state of psychosis in her son. She found her explanation when she saw what was playing on the television screen; it certainly did explain a few things. "How long has this…punishment been going on?"

"A few hours," Aoko replied cheerily. "We've watched _A Shark Tale_ and _The Little Mermaid_, and now we're watching _Finding Nemo_." She paused. "You know, he really shouldn't have kept that secret from me." She paused again, and grinned before leaning down to sing softly at Kaito. "Under da sea…"

Still pinned to the couch cushions, Kaito finally gave up and passed out. Unconsciousness was his friend—it protected him from Aoko's fishy wrath.

* * *

**PS.** _I don't know why this amused me as much as it did. But I think this might be a mini-series—and by mini, I mean I have exactly one other idea for it. So if you can think of some other way along this same line that Aoko might punish Kaito with fishy vengeance for not telling her about Kid, feel free to share!_

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	24. The Apartment: Moving Day

**Title: **The Apartment: Moving Day  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#16—purple  
**Word Count: **2135 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Heavy couches, a few walks down Memory Lane, and a dash of Murphy's Law. Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

"Careful, careful, careful!" Kazuha half-yelped as she was nearly bowled over by a couch. Or rather, the person on the other end of the couch was pushing just a little too fast, given that she had taken the crappy side and was walking backwards.

"Sorry!" Heiji's voice replied from the other end of the couch.

It was turning into quite a hectic day, to say the least. But neither had really expected everything to be all smooth sailing. After all, moving was never an easy task, and the best-laid plans of mice and men did tend to go awry here and there.

Upon Kazuha's abrupt return from America and final decision to stay, Heiji had suggested that they be roomies and get an apartment together. At first, Kazuha had been a bit resistant to the idea, once she had realized that he was completely serious. They couldn't share an apartment! For starters, they would kill each other. And then there was the old-fashioned fact that he was a 'he' and she was a 'she' and that could present a LOT of problems, even though they'd been best friends forever. Nuh-uh, no way.

But more importantly, things were beginning to develop between them, slowly but surely. An admission of feelings, a desire to stay together, an interest in seeing where they would end up if they let things happen…she didn't want anything to jeopardize their budding relationship.

In the end, however, he had convinced her. For one thing, it would cheaper for them both in terms of rent, which would help her get her feet back under her in Japan. And they were both adults—they were perfectly capable of coexisting without incident, if they so chose.

Plus, he admitted during a quiet moment, he felt better having her nearby so he knew she was safe. In the end, that was the reason that ultimately decided her. She agreed to give the roommate status a try. If things didn't work out, they could just move, right?

But Heiji seemed to be taking this whole thing very seriously. When she went back to the States to gather her things and get her affairs in order there, he had insisted on going with her. He said it was just to help her with her things, but she wondered if he was worried that she might get cold feet or something like that.

Not that there was really any chance of that happening…

And now here they were, after all was said and done, moving into their brand new two-bedroom apartment. Hence, the attempting to maneuver a rather heavy couch through a doorway that seemed far too small for it. But finally, they managed to shove the awkward piece of furniture into the apartment. They set it down carefully…and promptly dropped to sit on it.

"…well, I'm ready to be done," Kazuha joked after a moment of sitting and catching their breath.

Heiji gave her a puppy-dog look. "Wanna push it the rest of the way? I don't wanna get up."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Ahou."

Now he chuckled. "But seriously, I think this is the heaviest thing we've got. Once it's in, the rest should be smooth sailing. So come on, lazy, let's get this done."

With only a slight groan of protest, Kazuha shoved herself off the couch and helped him push it the rest of the way into place. Falling over onto that couch again was an almost irresistible temptation, but they headed out to get the rest of their stuff instead. Furniture first—then the boxes and suitcases.

After the couch was securely in place, the rest of the living room furniture followed with relative ease: a chair, a coffee table, and the entertainment center. No assembly required—just hooking a few things up and plugging things in. She did find a moment to tease him, though, about how proud she was that he had managed all of this without electrocuting himself. He was not amused.

The kitchen stuff came next—a relatively easy round. Kazuha took charge of telling him exactly where to put things. He could cook, but it was nothing compared to the magic she could work in a saucepan. So things were organized according to her wishes, since it was to be primarily her domain.

"I'll cook. You can do everything else," she teased him as she put the plates away in an upper cupboard. Again, Heiji did not seem terribly amused. But they managed to get it all put away without anything getting broken or destroyed.

Having done all that AND hauled in two sets of bedroom furniture (without actually setting anything up in the bedrooms yet), they decided it was time for a lunch break. They both plopped down onto the couch they had wrestled into place not long before and dove into a pile of sandwiches.

"So," Heiji asked around a mouthful, "tell me again how you got your father to agree to this arrangement? I figured he'd be a bit leery of us living together."

Kazuha swallowed her own bite. "Actually, he was surprisingly open to the idea. If anything, he sort of seemed…supportive of the notion. Offered to help us move and everything."

She had been stunned at how her father had reacted to everything. For starters, he hadn't seemed as surprised as he should have been when his daughter had appeared on his doorstep without warning after a year of living overseas. And he had seemed even _less_ surprised when she told him that she was moving back to Japan. It was almost like he had expected this…

She didn't tell him everything, though. There was no way she could tell her father what had happened with the young man in America—even if it was because of that guy and the way he'd treated her that she had come back to Japan in the first place. Or more specifically, it had sent her back to Heiji, prompting her decision to stay. She had skirted the whole issue, saying simply that she was lonely.

She wondered if her father knew or suspected that there was more to the story than that. He certainly wasn't a stupid man…but if he had any inklings, he did not voice them. Instead, he had simply asked where she was planning to go—was she moving home, or looking for an apartment, or staying with a friend?

That was the moment of truth, in some ways. Kazuha took a deep breath and told him of her decision to find a place with Heiji and be roommates.

Her father had gone quiet for a moment—just long enough for her to get worried. But then he simply asked a question: "What exactly is going on between you two?"

Now it was Kazuha's turn to be silent for a moment before replying, "I'm not a hundred percent sure where Heiji and I are going. There's something starting, but…it might be too soon to say." She actually had a little bit better grasp on their situation than she let on, but she didn't know how exactly her father would take that news. Best to take things slowly.

He seemed…concerned, but not entirely concerned, if such a thing made sense. "Just be careful, " was all he said. And the topic shifted to actual plans for the impending move: dates, locations, etc.

And now here they were, wolfing down sandwiches as they sat on a couch that seemed far too heavy.

Life was good.

Hot and tired and sweaty and still with a ton to do…but good.

Once the last sandwich bite had been policed off and washed down with swigs of juice, they got back to work. It was time to get the bedroom furniture put together and arranged to their individual satisfactions. Kazuha was somewhat surprised when Heiji failed to make even a single lewd remark about the bedroom thing or her bed or any such topic.

…to be honest, he'd been skirting certain issues ever since she'd returned, and anything even remotely sexual seemed to top his unwritten list of taboo topics. She figured he was tiptoeing around the subject because it could be touchy—which left her wondering when exactly he had developed this considerate streak, and why it hadn't developed earlier.

Sheesh—only Hattori Heiji could be so irritating while being so wonderful.

But it hadn't stopped him from (shyly) catching her in the kitchen of his old apartment…in the living room of her place in America…at random times and random places…and stealing a little kiss here and there.

Sighing, she shook herself from her giddy reveries and refocused on helping Heiji get her bed frame put together and attached to the headboard. Her bedroom went together with relative ease. They put everything into its place with few problems, save for Kazuha banging her knee when a dresser drawer decided to jump out at her; she let loose a few curses and hopped around for a bit. But overall, thus far there had been almost no hitches in the apartment set-up.

Then they went to get Heiji's furniture arranged in his bedroom. And finally, Murphy's Law decided to get off its ass and actually do something.

They were getting his bed frame put together when they hit a snag: the collapsible metal frame had gotten stuck, and wouldn't unfold like it was supposed to. So they did the logical thing, and started pulling. And finally, it popped open.

Without warning.

Right onto Heiji's forehead.

The narrow metal pole came down and nailed Heiji directly between the eyes. He let out a squawk, flew backwards to the carpet…and didn't move.

Kazuha blinked owlishly. "Uh-oh…"

**_-o-_**

When Heiji opened his eyes, he was on the couch. His head was throbbing, and he would soon discover that he was now the proud owner of a large purple bruise, marked across his forehead. And Kazuha was nowhere in sight, though he could hear movement and banging in the next room.

While he busied himself with trying to sit up and remember what had happened, she reappeared. She looked tired and winded, but very pleased with herself. "Good morning!" she half-wheezed. "You have a bed now, and I hope you're grateful for it!"

He stared at her. "You put it together? By yourself?"

"I sure did!" she beamed. Then her expression softened. "How's your head? Do you need anything?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," he replied, ignoring the fact that wrecking balls seemed to be smashing incessantly at the inside of his skull. He swung his legs off the couch and ginger got to his feet…and immediately sat back down again.

Kazuha raised an eyebrow. "You're fine, huh?" She crossed the room and reached out a hand to brush his hair back from his forehead. "You've got one hell of a shiner. That's a lovely shade of purple."

"Shut up," he winced. "God, my head hurts…"

"That's not surprising," she said. "So can you stand? The sooner we get the rest of the stuff in, the sooner you can go to bed and collapse properly."

"Pushy, pushy, pushy…" he muttered. But he acquiesced and hauled himself off the couch again to help with the final pieces of furniture. He made sure that it took as little time as possible—his head was throbbing like mad by the time he was finally able to curl up on the unmade bed.

A few minutes later, he felt something cold press against the sore spot on his forehead. He cracked an eye open to see Kazuha hold a can of soda to his face. "We don't have ice yet," she said apologetically. "But I put this in the fridge earlier, so at least it's cold. Hopefully it'll help."

In spite of the headache, he offered up a weak smile and took the can. "Thanks."

He was surprised when she didn't leave, but instead sprawled out across the other side of the bed. She lay beside him without moving or speaking for a while—long enough for him to wonder if she'd dozed off. But that notion was dashed when she spoke. "There are still a ton of boxes piled up in the living room."

"Hmm…don't care…" he sighed in reply. "Finish later."

She chuckled. "Or do you just want to lay here and let me baby you, oh injured one?"

"Ooh, I like that idea," he teased; it trailed off into a yawn. "Or a nap would be nice…"

"Nap, then unpack, then dinner?" Kazuha suggested.

"Brilliant."

"Then it's settled," she replied. She was quiet a moment, then sighed. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? This is home now." As she spoke, her fingers found his. "Our home."

Heiji gave her hand a squeeze. "Our home."

* * *

**PS.** _Okay, this might not make as much sense if you haven't read the last fic in my series of 30 Hugs for these two. Basic run-down: Kazuha goes to America after graduation, gets her heart broken by a real jackass, and comes back. She and Heiji have it out, and she decides to stay. At the end of the story, Heiji suggests that they get a place together. From there, the plunnies began to mutate._

_So this is the first in a little series of ficlets about Heiji and Kazuha and all the fun stuff that happens between them in their apartment. If you've got a suggestion or a thought, feel free to share. I've got three or four other ideas for them m'self._

_This is also sort of "art representing life," as I myself am preparing to move into my first apartment. This also means I'll be on hiatus from the internet for a while. Boo hiss!_

_L'anyhoodle, thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	25. Speaking Your Mind

**Title: **Speaking Your Mind  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Yuusaku/Yukiko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#46—star  
**Word Count: **7046 words  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **An evening out turns into a trip down Memory Lane. Yuusaku/Yukiko

* * *

Sneaking off to Japan was always a treat, Yukiko privately thought with a smile—especially the horrified look on Shinichi's face when he answered the door and found them there. But they were his parents, and so he grudgingly granted them entrance to the mansion. Granted, it was technically their house, but it was Shinichi's home.

And soon to be Ran's home as well, they had recently been informed.

They had tried to keep it quiet, but somehow, a reporter had gotten wind of the story, and the shy couple had found their engagement announcement plastered all over the front page of every newspaper and tabloid in the country. He was, after all, a major celebrity (given his part in the Syndicate's fall).

His fan-club had wept. Shinichi, however, had never been happier…except for the fact that reporters and journalists were continually badgering him (and more upsetting, badgering Ran) for interviews and information about the engagement and their wedding plans.

Actually, their oft-annoyed son was currently out with Ran—the affianced couple had snuck out for a night on the town. Yuusaku had made certain to tell Shinichi to behave himself as he was leaving, prompting a glare and a stammering disclaimer before Shinichi had just slammed the door and gone on his merry way. Yuusaku had chuckled and gone back to reading his paper.

So here they were.

And as fun as it was to visit…Yukiko was bored. She did not take boredom well. And sadly, her husband seemed completely oblivious to her restless state.

Finally, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She got up, walked across the room, and plucked the paper right out of his hands. Before he could say anything, she said, "I want to go out!"

He blinked at her from behind his glasses.

Yukiko managed to not roll her eyes. For as brilliant as he could be, sometimes he had to be the densest creature on legs. She stooped and poked him in the forehead. "I want to go out tonight. You are going to take me out. Do you understand?" She straightened and clapped her hands, her face breaking into a wide smile. "We'll call it a celebration! Celebrating Shin-chan's engagement!"

Yuusaku stared for a minute before smiling indulgently—he was long accustomed to his wife's impulses. "All right. It's a deal," he stood up. "And I'll even let you pick the restaurant."

"Oh, I know exactly where I want to go…"

"Yes?"

"Since tonight is going to be a celebration," she grinned mischievously, "I want to go back to the restaurant where you decided that you absolutely couldn't live without me."

He had the decency to blush a tiny bit before grinning back. "Hmm…well, I don't think I can argue against going to the place where you _admitted_ that you couldn't live without _me_. Lead on."

Yukiko headed towards the door. "Of course. And it was the best decision of my life."

Yuusaku stared at her. "Well, I won't argue." He sounded strangely pleased.

By now, shoes and coats were on and he was ushering her out the door.

"Well, it makes me very happy to hear that you won't argue about it," she said as they paused to lock the door. "But I remember it all so clearly." She giggled. "Especially how nervous you were!"

He gave her an indignant look. "Of course I was nervous! Any man proposing gets nervous!"

"I know that," she said. "It's just that you seemed more nervous than I thought you would be. You don't get worked up very often—you're usually so smooth and relaxed."

"Well…" he paused, then shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go."

"Eh?" Yukiko blinked. "Wait, wait, wait—well what? What is it?"

He gave her a sidelong look. "You seem to think that I had no doubts whatsoever that you would say yes. And that's…not completely true." He looked vaguely uncomfortable. Then again, she knew full well that she had a strange knack or vibe or whatever you wanted to call it that somehow got him to tell her things that he probably didn't want to talk about—feelings tended to top that list.

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. "I didn't know that. I guess I just thought that you…well, that you knew. You've always been so confident around me—even from day one."

"Logically? Yes, I was quite certain that you'd say yes," he said delicately. Logic was his dear friend, and governed so much of his life; that was something he had passed down to their son. "But other things…" Now he trailed off.

"What other things?" she prodded gently.

"…things," he replied evasively.

She reached down and tangled her fingers with his. "Yuusaku, talk to me. What other things?"

"Well, there's logic, and then there's…other things."

Okay, so they'd inadvertently hit on a topic he really didn't want to discuss. And the man could be far too stubborn sometimes. Yukiko sighed and conceded defeat. "It's fine," she said, biting her lip. "If you don't want to talk about it—I know some things are hard for you to express." She managed a weak smile.

Yuusaku frowned. "You already know—"

"I probably do, but it's different when you say it," she replied. "You're a detective, and I'm an actress—an artist, if you will. You function through logic, and I live through emotion. I can be logical, but most of the time…I guess my thinking process is different from yours, and so the way I express myself is different as well. I'm not afraid to tell you I love you. You tend to prefer to show than tell, but…" her tone grew wistful, "…it's nice to hear it once in a while.

Yuusaku opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. "You know what? Let's just go have dinner. It was stupid to even bring this up…" She said it cheerfully enough, but she did turn her face away from him as she started walking down the sidewalk towards the street. They had been standing by the front door for several minutes now, having this conversation.

Yuusaku frowned and pulled on her hand. "Yukiko."

She paused. "…yes?" She didn't turn around to look at him, though.

"Come here," he said in a tone that didn't leave a whole lot of room for argument. He tugged carefully on her hand to try and pull her back.

She took a few steps backwards, letting him draw her closer. But she still didn't turn around to look at him. "What is it?" Her voice was level—a bad sign for one who was usually so energetic and emotional.

He raised his free hand and carefully touched her cheek, trying to turn her head. "Look at me."

At last, she turned around, yet she kept her eyes focused on some seemingly-invisible point behind his left ear. She took a deep breath, like a sigh, but didn't say anything.

"Yukiko. Look at me," he said in that same firm tone. His hand was still lingering on her shoulder.

She finally looked up at him, though she was biting her lip. "Hmm?"

Now he frowned. "None of that," he scolded, dragging his thumb over her chin to try and draw her lip away from her teeth. Meanwhile, his other hand still held hers; he slid that arm around her waist, trapping her hand behind her.

Startled, she leaned back slightly. "…Yuusaku?"

He paused at her action. "Hmm?"

Quickly she shook her head. "Nothing. Just…surprised, that's all."

"Yukiko," he said seriously. "You know how I feel about you."

She shrugged. "I do know. It's just that you were being sort of evasive…so I just figured that if you didn't want to…say anything first…it's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Of course I'm going to worry," he said flatly.

Yukiko shook her head…and impulsively rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

When she leaned back, he swallowed hard. "…you know? You understand?"

"Of course I know," she said. "I was just being silly."

Yuusaku didn't look convinced. "Don't ever doubt."

"I don't want you to ever doubt either," she reached up and brushed at his bangs. "Do you understand?"

He looked faintly uncomfortable. "…you do know I love you. Right?" he asked very, very softly.

Now she smiled. "I know. And I love you too. And don't ever forget that—remember that agreeing to marry you was the best decision I ever made." She pressed another quick kiss to his lips.

He cleared his throat, now looking extremely embarrassed. "Right…well…dinner?"

Yukiko grinned and chuckled. "That's right." Impulsive, she gave him one more kiss and then stepped back. "Let's go eat. I'm starving!"

Yuusaku cleared his throat and took her hand. "Let's go, then."

**_-o-_**

As luck would have it, their "special table" was open when they got there. The waiter was good enough to take them there when they requested it, and they were seated in very short order. Yukiko looked around, obviously delighted. "Oh, it's just as lovely as it was before!"

Yuusaku looked around and nodded. "Seems like it was yesterday in some ways…"

"…except that it wasn't," Yukiko replied; she suddenly looked stricken. "Oh god, I'm getting so old! Shin-chan's getting married, for goodness sake!" She put her elbow on the table and put her chin in her palm.

He grinned. "For what it's worth, you don't look any older to me."

"That's very sweet, honey," she quirked a wry brow, "but I think we might need to up your eyeglass prescription."

"You know perfectly well that I had an eye exam a month ago," Yuusaku said. "My prescription is just fine. I speak only the truth."

The waitress chose that moment to appear. Both ordered white wine, and returned to their conversation as the young woman absented herself in search of their drinks. Yukiko glanced back at him and grinned. "Love is blind, Yuusaku. I look in the mirror every day. I know exactly what I see."

"I know what I see as well, Yukiko," he retorted. "And I'm telling you what I see."

Yukiko raised both hands in a placating gesture. "Fine, fine! You know, the decorations in this place haven't changed, either." She looked around, remembering.

"…and you subtly change the subject," Yuusaku said with a fond smile, obviously amused. "But you're right. It does look exactly the same." The waitress returned with their wine and offered them a few more minutes to decide on their meals. "Did Shinichi tell you that he brought Ran here to propose to her?"

She had been taking a sip of her wine; when he mentioned it, she did a spit-take, and was a hair away from spraying the drink across the table. "What-what? He did? Are you serious? I didn't know that…"

Yuusaku nodded. "He did. Granted, he didn't actually tell me. Ran mentioned it, but I don't think she knew the whole story or why he picked this particular place. I wonder which table it was…wouldn't it be ironic if it was this one?"

"It would, but I don't think he could have known what table to ask for—unless you told him. I don't think I ever mentioned that part to him," Yukiko sat back in her seat. "But oh, that's just so…! I never would have thought Shin-chan would plan such a romantic gesture!"

"Of course he'd plan something like that," Yuusaku grinned and sipped his wine. "He's my son, after all."

Yukiko rolled her eyes. "Well, do we think he interrupted his romantic proposal to go run off and solve a murder?" She had heard that particular story; it seemed that dead bodies followed her boy around.

"After everything that happened, I doubt he would risk that again," Yuusaku shook his head. "He's seen far too many chances slip by—I'd like to think he'd be smarter than that, at least."

"Well, I'll be happy if he's at least recognized that he should definitely stay with the woman he's with and let the police handle the rest," she nodded in mock-satisfaction.

"If he hasn't learned that lesson yet…" he pondered, "…well, I suppose it'll be up to Ran to make him see reason, won't it? But I think she'll be able to handle it."

"That's true," she said thoughtfully. "It would be very easy for him to fall back into an old habit. Letting solving mysteries become the top priority…"

"Indeed," he agreed. "And forgetting all about his long-suffering wife until she decides to take matters into her own hands. Which probably won't be pretty."

Yukiko nodded her assent. "Absolutely. I mean, what else would there be for her to do? She can only be expected to take so much before she cracks."

"But I think that holds true for everyone," Yuusaku added. "If I recall, you've had to put me in my place once or twice…but I have no doubt that Ran will find a way to get it through his skull. She's a very resourceful girl when the need arises."

"Ran is definitely a resourceful girl," she agreed. "There's never been anyone that can keep Shinichi in check like she can. She'll be fine. And for the record, I've had to 'put you in your place' more than a couple times, oh wise one."

Yuusaku looked amused. "More than a couple of times? I don't remember there being _that_ many…"

"Yuusaku," she deadpanned, "I came here to Tokyo from Los Angeles during one of those times."

"First of all, that was completely uncalled for," he half-scolded her. "Secondly, if you're going to run off, could you at least let me know where you're going?" He was…almost pouting. "Honestly—leave a note or something!"

Yukiko frowned. "You came home in the wee hours of the morning completely drunk with lipstick marks all over the collar of your shirt. Or have you forgotten that?"

"And I woke up the next morning and didn't know where you were. For all I knew…" he stopped in mid-sentence and took a long sip of wine.

Her expression darkened. "All you would have needed to do was take a good look at yourself to figure out why I took off. I assume that's what you did. Or you deduced it some other way." She took a sip as well.

"That's not the problem," he replied flatly. "I knew why. But I didn't know—" he stopped short, cleared his throat, and turned to look out the window.

"If you knew why I left…then you would have known that I wasn't in any danger," she seemed confused. "That seems pretty obvious."

"It wasn't a matter of danger," he said. "I know that you're smart and plenty capable of taking care of yourself. And yes, I could guess where you'd gone, but I didn't know if…" He trailed off again.

Yukiko had the sudden impression that they were inching into the Yuusaku Discomfort Zone. "If…what? Yuusaku, you're going to have to clarify because you've lost me. I mean, where else would I go?"

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "Yukiko…why do you think I came after you?"

She shrugged. "To bring me back home. You said as much. You followed me to my friend's home and solved the mystery—poor Shin-chan was stumped."

"To make sure…you came home at all," he said quietly, keeping his gaze squarely out the window.

Yukiko was stunned into total silence. She just stared at him.

After a few seconds, he went on. "You were very upset, and really had every right to be. Of course I could figure out where you'd gone. But I didn't know if you were coming back. So…I went after you."

"Yuusaku, I…" she fumbled for words, and took a sip of her wine to try and relax. At the rate she was going, she would need another glass very soon. "I didn't…I, um…" She couldn't think of anything reasonable to say.

The waitress chose that moment to return for their orders, and so the conversation lapsed for a minute as they both selected their meals. Once the young woman had absented herself once again, they returned to the serious conversation at hand.

Yukiko took a deep breath. "I never knew you thought that I had left…really left." Truth be told, the thought had never even crossed her mind. But then again…he had been so lost to the world when he came home that night. Given his state, it was quite possible that he'd woken up and realized that he had gone way past the line and might have screwed things up irreversibly.

He shook his head. "It wasn't that I necessarily thought that…I guess it was more that I didn't know if maybe things had gone too far. So I came. I had to make sure."

At the time, she had gone running off without a second thought. She had been furious, even to the point of saying to Shin-chan that maybe she should find herself someone else as well. But she hadn't been at all serious about that. Now, given what he had just told her…she felt guilty for having worried him like that. It was one thing to get back at him for doing stupid things; it was another entirely to make him truly suffer. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, shaking her head at herself. "I should have called or left a note or something. It's just that at the time…"

"You were angry," he finally turned his head slightly to look at her. "I don't really blame you."

She met his eyes for one second before looking away. "I thought that maybe…maybe you were having an…having…never mind."

Now he turned to look at her full-on. "No—go on."

Yukiko shook her head. "It was stupid and it's not worth mentioning. I reacted like a spoiled little girl."

Yuusaku sighed. "Yukiko, please just say what's on your mind."

She looked at him for a moment, then looked down. "I…" she said in a very quiet voice, "…I thought that you might be having an affair." Her gaze slide sideways to the window in a mirror of his earlier posture.

He sighed again and turned back to the window. "Yukiko, why would I betray you like that?"

Her hands clasped together even more tightly on the tabletop. "I…I don't know. But I thought…you know, you'd been drinking a lot and you were coming home late, and the lipstick smears…I just started to wonder if…" Her voice was starting to shake.

Yuusaku chuckled—a dry, humorless noise. "I don't think there's enough sake in Japan for that."

She kept her eyes towards the window and made a sad sound. "Yuusaku…when people get drunk, they don't usually retain good controls of their common sense."

He sat back in his chair and studied her profile intently for a moment; she could feel his scrutiny, but did not meet his eyes. "Drunk or not, how could I betray the perfect woman?"

Now she turned to look at him in surprise. "I'm not perfect," she said with a slightly self-deprecating smile; she turned back to the window. It was a beautiful night out there.

Yuusaku smiled slightly. "You could have fooled me."

"You know that I'm not the movie star. You recognized that from day one," she pointed out. "There are plenty of flaws. Plenty of them—you should know that better than anyone else."

"I know you have flaws," he replied. "No one ever said that perfection necessarily meant an absence of flaws, did they?"

She kept her face towards the window, but in her reflection he could see that her eyes had soften. "It's just that…Yuusaku, you're unbelievably admired. Fans all over the world. It's not jealousy—it's just a fact."

With a disbelieving shake of the head, Yuusaku rested his elbow on the table and put his chin in his hand and regarded her with sad bemusement. "And you're not unbelievably admired? You know you are—you've even told me so. Jokingly, of course. But I don't worry because I know you. And I know you would never do something like that."

"But I don't run in that circle anymore. I gave that all up," she pointed out. "And don't get me wrong—I'm happy that I did. And you're a famous writer, and you're required to make appearances and meet with the fans, which is fine. I don't want to change that either. But when you came home that night like that…I just couldn't help but think that…maybe…" She nervously toyed with her hair.

"Yukiko. Do you really think that you don't have admirers anymore?" he said dubiously. "Think very hard. There are plenty of fans who still adore you and would gladly snatch you away, given the chance."

Finally, she turned to look at him sharply. "I didn't say that! I just meant that I don't tend to go to premieres or afterparties or gatherings or anything like that anymore. So it's a little more difficult for some fan to 'snatch me away,' as you put it." Her fingers tangled together tight on the tablecloth.

Yuusaku stared at her for a moment, then sighed and closed his eyes. "Have you already condemned me for this—for something I didn't do? Do you really think I would just throw away you, our son, and our marriage because I had a little too much to drink?"

"If that's true, we wouldn't be here now, would we?" she replied. "You came to Japan because you weren't sure. I was upset, yes, and I ran away, but…I was never planning to leave you for good. I'm just trying to explain how I felt when I saw you come home like that!"

"And I'm telling you that I would never do such a thing—especially not to you. You're my wife, and I love you," he said, almost angrily; he sat back and looked out the window again. "So don't worry."

Yukiko sighed. "It was a bad idea to talk about this. I really shouldn't have said anything." A tense pause. "I'll be right back." She got up and headed towards a door that he knew led to a hallway where the restrooms were located.

Yuusaku sat still for approximately two seconds before he got up and followed her through that door and out into the hallway. "Yukiko."

She stopped and turned around when she heard her name. "Oh…Yuusaku…" Was it just his imagination, or did her eyes look just a little bit misty? Some celebration this evening was turning out to be…he was upset and she was crying. Wonderful.

He hesitated for a second, then walked straight up to her and put his arms around her without saying a word. She stiffened in response before she buried her face in his chest. "Yuusaku…"

"No more," he said softly.

"But…I—" she looked up at him.

"No more of that. It's all right," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

She pulled one arm free to wipe haphazardly at her eyes. "Me too…" Yukiko swallowed hard and seemed to be trying to get a grip on herself. After giving her head a good shake, she looked up at him and managed a small smile. "They might have brought our dinner by now."

"And they're probably wondering where we are," he chuckled; he stepped back and offered her his arm.

"I bet they are," she took his arm with one hand and began combing her fingers through her hair with the other. "Do I look all right? Is my hair okay?"

"Lovely. As always," he grinned and escorted her back out to the table, where the waitress was setting down their plates with a slightly confused look on her face at their absence.

The poor girl jumped when Yukiko popped up behind her. "Oh, that looks wonderful. Thank you!"

"Yes, thank you," Yuusaku added, pulling her chair out for his wife before taking his own seat. The baffled waitress nodded, wish them a pleasant meal, and absented herself again.

Yukiko took a bite and closed her eyes. "Just as delicious as before." She already seemed to be in a much better mood than she had been merely ten minutes ago.

He watched her for a moment, smiling, before starting in on his own meal. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and nodded in concurrence. "I agree. The food is still excellent." And with that, most of the conversation went on hold in the interest of eating.

When most of the food had been polished off with great relish and their wine glasses had been emptied and refilled, Yukiko glanced over towards another part of the restaurant. "Do you hear that?" They both listened as light music filled the air around them. "It sounds they still have the string quartet. I wonder if the dance floor is still there…"

Yuusaku swallowed and set his fork down. "If they do…may I have this dance?"

She blushed slightly and smiled. "Of course!"

They were pleased to see that the dance floor was still there, and there were already a few other couples out there, enjoying the pleasant sound of a minuet. He pulled her into a dancing position, with one of his hands at her waist and the other holding hers. "We haven't done this in a while."

"I know!" she said, seemingly excited about the idea. "But it's nice that it would happen here…"

He nodded. "It is very fitting."

As they slipped easily into the rhythm, Yukiko impulsively let her head rest comfortably against his shoulder. "In spite of our little chat earlier…I'm so happy right now."

Yuusaku chuckled lightly. "And the night is still young."

She smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "It is, isn't it…oh! And don't you dare let me forget to order dessert! I remember how good it was last time…"

"Of course," he said. "Something chocolate, wasn't it?"

"Chocolate mousse…something," she said, nodding against his shoulder. "I can't remember whether it was alone or over cheesecake or something like that. We can't leave until we've had dessert!"

She could be so childlike sometimes—it was rather endearing at moments like this, to his mind. "After this song, then? Dessert…and then what? Where should we go next? Since tonight is turning into an adventure, we can't stop at just dinner."

Yukiko straightened up and looked at him. "I don't know…where do you want to go? I chose to come here for dinner, remember? So it's your turn now."

He gave her a rather sly smile. "The movies. Hokkaido. The stars. We can really go wherever we please."

She laughed. "I don't think that stars are really an option for us."

Yuusaku spun her out, then twirled her back in. "You crush my dreams. You crush them so hard."

"I'm not crushing your dreams," she laughed at the spin. "I'm just applying that logic stuff that you're so fond of, my dear."

"Every once in a while, logic need not apply," he said airily. "So…to the stars, then?"

Her smile and tone were both soft. "Absolutely. Let's go." And he spun her again as the song ended and the restaurant patrons applauded the live musicians while the couple walked back to their table. Their waitress was just returning with a dessert menu, and left them to decide.

"Did I mention that you dance divinely?" Yukiko teased, taking the menu.

"Well, I have a very graceful partner," he replied casually.

She picked up the menu and being browsing the options with obvious relish. "Oh, that looks good. So does that. And that one does too! Not that one, though…no wait, yes it does…"

He was watching her with an amused smile. "What looks the best?"

She raised a hand dramatically and put on an air. "I'm sorry, Yuusaku, but you can't rush the process. I haven't weighed all the options yet. These things taken time."

To her surprise, he leaned forward and snatched the menu right out of her hands. "If you won't decide, then I suppose I will." He opened the menu and began looking at the listings, ignoring her pout.

When he grabbed it, she snatched at the empty air, and then frowned at him. "Aww…that's just not fair. It takes time!" When he ignored her and kept looking, she sighed. "Don't just pick some random thing, either. Read the ingredients and everything…"

Yuusaku scanned the menu one final time and grinned. "I think this will do quite nicely." He signaled the waitress; when she came over, he pointed to the menu. "That one please, miss. Thank you." As the waitress wandered off again, he returned his attention to his wife. "Trust me, you'll like this."

She folded her arms and sat back to wait. "I'd better." She pouted slightly, just for emphasis.

"Just wait until it gets here," he said soothingly. "I promise that you'll be in a much better mood."

"I sure hope so," she said. "Because you just robbed me of the art of deciding."

"Patience, patience," he chastised her.

The banter continued for a few moments until the waitress appeared once again, bearing their dessert. And what a dessert it was: a chunk each of raspberry cheesecake, turtle cheesecake, and fudge brownie, topped with a dollop of whipped cream and served in a long-stemmed dessert glass.

Yukiko's eyes were enormous, and she leaned forward for a better look. "Is that it?"

"Yes. Yes, it is," he chuckled and handed her a spoon. "I trust it meets with your approval?"

She took the spoon. "It's so pretty!" She took a careful bite and closed her eyes. "Oh. My. God." He raised an eyebrow and took a bite himself without saying anything. Yukiko didn't notice; she was extremely wrapped up in the dessert. "Oh wow…unbelievable…" She looked up to see his reaction, and was surprised to find him watching her with a grin and slightly-suggestive quirked brow; she frowned. "What? Don't give me that look. You haven't even tried it yet! Try it. Then you can say something."

He didn't reply, but continued to grin and watch her obvious enjoyment. As was usual with him, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but she suspected it was nothing good.

Yukiko blushed. "Stop looking at me that way! Try it and you'll see." In spite of her firm words, she couldn't quite keep herself from taking another bite. "Oh my…"

Yuusaku chuckled and finally took a bite. "Divine…"

Now her look was wholly triumphant. "See??"

He swallowed. "I already told you that it was delicious," he said cheerily, taking another bite.

"…I can't believe you're not having the same reactions I am," she quipped, sounding mildly irritated. "You're just so calm, sitting there."

"I'm enjoying the entertainment," he replied, giving her a pointed look.

Yukiko flushed a bright crimson. "Shush you! That's it—I'm not having any more! I'll wait for you to finish it." She set her spoon down and folded her arms defiantly.

Yuusaku shrugged and took a very slow bite. "This is just wonderful…"

She looked at the unfinished dessert, and then looked away. "Yeah, but I'm full."

"Hmm…then maybe we should get going," he suggested, setting down his spoon as well.

Now it was her turn to quirk an eyebrow. "I am amazed at how quickly your brain jumps from one topic to another. Your attention span is almost frighteningly short sometimes."

He adopted a deep, dramatic tone. "A good detective is always thinking, Yukiko. It's just a matter of what we're thinking about—sometime it's a case, and other times it's something completely mundane."

She watched his little act, quite amused. "Yes, and I can only guess what you're thinking about and how you got there. I probably don't want to know, even though I could hazard a guess and be right, I'm sure."

His grin grew wider. "I can't help it. You're beautiful, and I'm certainly not blind."

Yukiko shook her head at him in mock shame and rolled her eyes towards the heavens. "Oh no, you can't help it…I knew I should have picked dessert."

Laughing, Yuusaku handed the check to the waitress with the appropriate amount, and then rose, offering her a hand. "On to the next adventure?" He was smiling.

"Tonight's a night of adventures, isn't it?" she grinned, taking his hand and standing. "That's right, though…you said you were going to take me to the stars."

"Yes, I did," he said, squeezing her hand. "And I have every intention of doing so…in some manner."

She leaned closer as they wandered out of the restaurant and towards the elevator. "And what, pray tell, are you planning? How do you intend to accomplish this?"

He put a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. "This is a secret."

She leaned her head on his shoulder as the elevator started moving downward. "Tell me. Please?"

He shook his head. "Not now."

"Just a hint?" she gave him a puppy dog look. "Please?"

"Well, let me ask you this," he said as the elevator dinged and the silver doors parted before them. "How would you like to go to the stars?"

Yukiko looked thoughtful for a moment, then replied, "It doesn't matter. I just want to go with you."

Yuusaku squeezed her hand again. "Then it doesn't matter how we get there, does it?" he said with a grin.

"You always do that," she sighed in mock-aggravation. "You ask me one thing, and then you trick me by asking me something else, and I wind up contradicting myself."

"It's a gift, I assure you," he said, opening the door for her and ushering her past him to the sidewalk.

"A gift for you, a pain in the neck for me," she said.

"Now why would I want to hurt your neck? It's lovely. And for the record," he went on, "I do have a couple of ideas…but you might swat me for them." His grin took on a more mischievous air.

She gave him a Look. "Might swat you? There's no might about it, dear. If it's one of your ideas, then it's definite. Your ideas always seem to end up with me wanting to swat you."

"You might swat me, but I've never heard you complain in the end," he raised an eyebrow.

She decided to oblige, and gave him a light swat on the arm. "There's one for you—I'm sure it'll be the first of many. It's still early, so you have plenty of time to earn another, Mister I Think I'm So Smooth."

"I am smooth," he said haughtily. "You're just stubborn." He winked and raised the hand he was holding to kiss the back of it. How he could be so brilliant and yet so childish and impulsive at the same time remained a mystery to her.

Yukiko blushed and tried to hide her smile. "Did you have to take a special class for your charm? First course, Flirting 101. Second course, Lowering Your Voice About an Octave 102…"

"I must add," Yuusaku grinned at the joke, "that I aced Dashing Smiles 301. It was an advanced-level course."

"I should let you know that I got honors in the direct equivalent of that course," Yukiko ran her free hand through her hair. "It's called Resisting Dashing Smiles: A Crash Course for Turning Your Head to Grins That Should Be Outlawed in Half the Country."

He pretended to look hurt and pointed to his heart. "You wound me, my dear. Truly. Right here."

"Oh, was that from Romantic Dramatics 303?" she rolled her eyes. "Or Sad Puppy Eyes 401?"

"I'll have you know that Sad Puppy Eyes was only a two hundred level course," he said airily. "And I'll also have you know that I aced it as well."

"Oh, forgive me. I'm sure it must have been a breeze for you," she teased. "My instructors told me to just throw out a 'Don't give me that look' to the sad puppy dog eyes. Like magic, they disappear."

"I think not," he replied. "Let it never be said that I was an inadequate student. But back to the topic at hand—since you oh-so-cleverly wounded my idea, how would you like to go to the stars?"

"Oh no," Yukiko shook her head. "You said you were taking me to the stars. I think you need to be more creative with how. My only stipulation was going with you. You're a famous writer—now come up with a plan." She raised an expectant eyebrow.

"I suggested something that would get us both there, and you rejected it," he said mischievously. "So I'm asking you for an idea."

""I didn't actually reject anything," she let go of his hand to adjust her purse on her shoulder. "I was just commenting on how smooth you think you are." She swung her arms at her sides like a little girl.

"Oh?" he stepped behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, stopping her from going anywhere. "So you're not rejecting my suggestion?" To drive the point home, he lightly kissed the side of her neck.

She probably would have been embarrassed if there had been many other people on out there to see them, but the sidewalk was almost empty. Plus, she was a bit giddy at the moment, and with that came a slightly adventurous attitude. "Well, I don't know…" she tilted her head slightly to the side. "I mean…we could always head to an observatory. Could look at different constellations…" She was teasing him now, just to see what he would say.

He chuckled. "You enjoy trying to mess with my head, don't you?" He kissed her neck again, this time with a little bit better access because she had moved her head, granting him a wider area to play with.

"It's just that you make it so easy sometimes…"

"If you say so," he replied, tightening his arms around her waist. "Now what do you want to do? As you say it, so shall it be done."

She paused for a moment, considering it, and then gave her answer. "…let's go to the observatory. We haven't gone stargazing in ages, and it's a perfect night for it." She smiled widely, knowing that she had just squashed his idea. But a little disappointment was good for him.

Sure enough, his responsive sigh was obviously disappointed. "All right. Let's go." He let go of her waist and took her hand again. "Walk, or catch a taxi?"

She chuckled at his expression. "You're too funny sometimes…" she shook her head. "Let's hail a taxi. These heels are killing me."

He raised his arm to obligingly hail a cab. "Then why do you wear them?"

"Because first of all, they make me look taller," she replied as a taxi stopped in front of them. "And secondly, it's like the cherry on top of a sundae. The dress looks nice, but the heels make it look nicer."

Yuusaku ushered her into the backseat and gave the driver the address before replying to her comment. "…so you're an ice cream sundae, hmm? Really?" His cheeky grin spoke volumes.

She swatted him playfully. "In your eyes, I probably am."

He looked uncomfortable. "Do not tempt me. In a taxi out in public or not, do NOT tempt me."

The look she gave him could only be described as an 'oh please' look. "I highly doubt that you're planning to give our taxi driver a private show," she said in a low voice, and then casually adjusted her outfit.

His arm slid around her waist. "Reminds me of when we were first married."

"And just what exactly are you remembering?" she asked, arching a brow. "That you couldn't keep your hands to yourself? Because I don't recall that being exclusive to our newlywed phase…"

"If I'd had my way, I doubt we would have gone out in public. You were just stubborn."

"Stubborn, huh?" Yukiko said. "I do believe that every once in a while, people have to eat a regular meal, take a shower, get outside for some sunlight and fresh air…finish their manuscripts…"

Yuusaku sighed. "I still can't believe they called me while we were on our honeymoon. They knew where I was. Some people have no decency…"

"Maybe if somebody had finished the manuscript before we got on the plane instead of expressing their enthusiasm over the accommodations, they would have had to call."

"…et tu, Brute?" Yuusaku deadpanned. "Honestly, you have no faith in me."

"Correction," Yukiko tapped the tip of his nose with one finger. "I have plenty of faith in your ability to jump on a plane for a whirlwind romantic adventure. Not so much faith in your ability to make your deadline, or to do anything work-related without making your editors and publishers suffer."

"And yet you never protest when I suggest the whirlwind adventures," he pointed out. "And there's the observatory." The taxi stopped at the curb, and he paid the driver before getting out and scooting around the car to open her door for her.

She stepped out of the taxi and took his arm as they began walking towards the entrance. "Well, I do believe I protested on our last trip to France. You were two chapters behind, and they were starting to actually call me because they figured I could get you to actually do some work."

"And yet we continued onto Vienna," he retaliated.

"That's because I made you finish your story before we could actually do anything, and you faxed it over. Complaining every single second of the way, I might add," she corrected him.

He rolled his eyes before his expression turned thoughtful. "Vienna. Such a beautiful city. We should go there again sometime—maybe after Shinichi's wedding?"

"Oh, I would definitely not mind going there again…wait…" she paused and gave him a suspicious look. "Yuusaku, you aren't hiding from a deadline again, are you?"

He waved her question off. "Of course not. I'm appalled that you would think so." He opened the door and ushered her through. "Now…how about those stars?"

* * *

**PS. **_Before anything else is said, I would like to make it very very clear that this is totally, one hundred percent **sapphirestars'** fault. She turned me into a Yuusaku/Yukiko fangirl via AIM. However, she says that I turned HER into a Y/Y fangirl as well, so I guess we're even. But yes, we got to analyzing their relationship a bit, and…this wound up appearing in the chat window, more or less. There's so little canon of those two…I would like to see more of them. Just from what we've gotten, they seem to have a very interesting relationship dynamic._

_And in the Desperate Revival arc, there is an image of when Yuusaku proposes. That is the most flustered-looking he has ever appeared. It's sort of endearing, given that I initially did not care too much for Kudo-papa. But he's grown on me, I suppose. As for the IC-ness of this…I seriously envision those two as big teenagers. Necking and all n.n _

_And with this not-so-little fic…we've reached the big number twenty-five! I am officially a quarter of the way through the fanfic100 challenge. That's actually why I decided to finish this ginormous one for it. It's a celebration! This was originally going to be number ten, to celebrate moving into double-digits, but…that didn't work out. So you can have it now instead. I would also like to apologize for any typos—I just got a new computer, and there's some lag between the pressing of the key and the letter appearing on screen, and I type very fast. So I might have missed some errors._

_Thus ends the Author's Note That's Longer Than the Bloody Story. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_

_Oh, and the dessert they ate? I've actually had it, honest to goodness. BEST DESSERT EVER!! And it didn't hurt that I was engaged in very interesting conversation with a British man who happened to be a former pro soccer player :D_


	26. How to Get the Girl of Your Dreams

**Title: **How to Get the Girl of Your Dreams  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#17—brown  
**Word Count: **2195 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Heiji is on a mission. Who knows? Maybe he'll actually figure it out! Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

**_Meet the girl…_**

The two babies stared at each other with similar green gazes.

Having been placed in the same crib by their parents, they really didn't have much else to do. Said parents were just outside the door, excitedly discussing their newfound roles as parents, leaving their very young children to get acquainted. After all, their parents were longtime friends, so if the kids hit it off, it would make things much easier.

The adorable little boy regarded his newfound companion quizzically before crawling over to her for closer examination. She held onto her stuffed bunny toy and watched him right back.

Baby Heiji chirped.

Baby Kazuha cooed.

Baby Heiji gurgled.

Baby Kazuha meeped.

Baby Heiji giggled.

Baby Kazuha shrieked and waved her arms…and then reached over and soundly gave Baby Heiji a baby slap on the top of his baby head before she decided that the bunny toy in her hands was more interesting and less likely to irritate her, and began gnawing on its ear. Poor Bunny-san.

Baby Heiji pouted.

Baby Kazuha chewed, ignoring him.

And that was their beautiful beginning.

**_Realize you love her…_**

Hattori Heiji tried everything. He tried drumming his fingers on the desk. He tried reading. He tried napping. He tried staring at the wall. Hell, he _even_ went a little crazy and went so far as to try and pay attention to what the teacher was lecturing on.

But it was to no avail. His eyes kept dragging themselves back in her direction. And for the absolute life of him, he couldn't figure out why. It wasn't like he hadn't seen her before or anything. He saw her every day—hell, he saw her far more often than he probably should, she followed him everywhere, always nagging and pestering and whining…

He was such a saint. He could tolerate it.

…aw, crap, his eyes were roaming back towards her. No, no, no, stupid!! Why did he keep looking at her? It wasn't like she was even that nice to look at or anything…except for the part where she actually was. When had she started being pretty?

…that was a dangerous train of thought.

But after about two weeks of this, he started to wonder if…if…

Maybe…

**_Denial…_**

_I have officially lost my mind!_ he berated himself. Epiphanies were never fun.

But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him. They had known each other their entire lives—she knew everything about him (and vice versa), and she hadn't run away screaming yet. Which was a definite plus.

They were closer than most siblings in a lot of ways…and she had somehow managed to become really pretty in the last couple of weeks—he swore she hadn't looked that good before.

Except for the part where there was no way he could possibly have feelings for Kazuha. No effin' WAY. That just wasn't possible. He tried to rationalize everything as best he could—it was concern for a follower, or he was just being stupid, or…hell, he was even willing to think that maybe it was a little bit of infatuation or something! But he didn't think about that too much—it was a dangerous train of thought.

Still, after a couple of days of trying to arrange his thoughts and put some other name to what he was feeling…he was still stuck at square one. Nothing else seemed to tally up.

One of the reasons Heiji was such a good detective was because he let the evidence speak for itself; the evidence told a story of sorts, and he let that storyline guide his deductions to reach the inevitable ending, no matter how unlikely that ending was. The only place he tended to have problems with that was when it applied to himself and his own thoughts.

In this case it took him four freakin' days to actually trace the evidence…and when he got to the end of the road and found himself at the ultimate deduction…he actually headdesked. In the middle of class, no less. And then Sensei scolded him for falling asleep in class.

As if finally getting it wasn't bad enough, now he was in trouble. And Kazuha was watching him like she knew that there was something going on, but didn't know what it was…so she just settled for giving him a 'you are such an ahou' Look.

For the rest of the day, Heiji just stared out the window and tried to figure out when in the hell he'd fallen for his childhood best friend…and didn't hear Sensei calling on him to answer a question.

Then he got chewed out again.

**_Play it cool…_**

Going home from school that day was a definite challenge. First of all, they always walked home together—which also involved contact, close proximity, and conversation, three things he was pretty sure he couldn't handle doing at that moment.

_Just stay calm…play it cool. You're totally fine, _he told himself, giving himself a mental shake. _Nobody knows what's going on. Just act natural, be yourself, don't worry…_

_…err…_

_…she's looking at me._

He shifted uncomfortably under her questioning scrutiny for a loooooong minute before he realized he had to say something or it would be dramatically out of character. "What're you looking at, ahou?" he demanded loudly. It was the first thing that came to his mind, and it was definitely in character. She would never know what he was thinking now!

_…she's got beautiful eyes…okay, she's not looking at me anymore._

He ducked.

_Now she's taking swings at me…oh well._

**_Eat some cheese…_**

Heiji looked up at the sky. "…bwuh?"

**_…ignore the previous heading…_**

Heiji nodded. "Thanks…"

The author felt stupid for a moment before she noticed something very shiny on the sidewalk and jumped out the window to chase after it. Too bad she lived on the second floor. Ow…

_(AN: I have no idea anymore…I really don't…the plunnies won't let me goooo…)_

**_If she catches you staring, play it down…_**

When Kazuha stopped trying to land punches on his face, they lapsed back into a semi-comfortable silence.

And his eyes again took on that bizarre mind of their own, and forcibly dragged themselves back towards her direction. He fought, but they lead the charge forcefully and won the battle, and so he found himself once again staring at her.

He was suddenly noticing a lot of little things. _Really_ little things, like how brown her hair was, or the way her ponytail swung behind her juuuuuuust so when she walked, or how she kept banging her knees against her school satchel. Stupid, unimportant little things that he had never noticed before now seemed to jump out at him and captivate his attention.

Unfortunately for Heiji, it hadn't gone unnoticed.

Kazuha finally got fed up; she stopped and turned to face him fully, arms folded menacingly. "Why do you keep staring at me?!?" she demanded loudly, fire in her voice and something unreadable flashing across her eyes.

He took a shaky step backwards in spite of himself. "I can explain!" Heiji yelped, panic setting in.

There was a pause. Kazuha tapped her foot expectantly. Nearby, a cricket chirped.

Heiji sighed. "All right, I can't…"

Kazuha rolled her eyes and smacked him on the head. "Ahou. Let's go home."

**_Work up your nerve and try to tell her the truth…_**

As they neared his house, Heiji swallowed hard and tried to speak, to say something. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that where they were was really the best possible setting. There weren't many people around to overhear things, it was neutral territory, and he had plenty of directions in which he could run in case she decided she didn't like things and tried to hurt him.

"Hey, Kazuha…" he started.

"What's up?" she asked pleasantly. She seemed to be in a relatively good mood.

This was it—the perfect moment. All he had to do was say the right thing—tell her he thought he loved her, ask her out, ask what she thought of him…so many things he could say to get the ball rolling…

**_Fail miserably…._**

"…do you want to come over to my house for a while?" he blurted. "Just hang out for a while?"

Kazuha seemed a bit startled, but smiled. "Sure! Why not?"

And as they walked on, Heiji wished he had a bat.

So he could hit himself with it.

**_Having just failed miserably, try for discretion…_**

Her hand was right there.

All he had to do was reach down and grab it. No big deal—he had touched her before. Hell, he had even held her hand before. Granted, it was usually more with the intention of dragging her away for some reason, like…running away from a psycho with a sword who was determined to slaughter them both.

He had never held her hand…just for the sake of doing it, or because there was any feeling behind it. At least, he was pretty sure he had never done that. But now…maybe that would be a good way to open things up and…okay, he was just running out of ideas, and he was hopeless when it came to actually talking about emotions and crap like that.

Unfortunately, while he was trying to figure out what he was going to do, he didn't notice that he was falling behind her. He also didn't notice that Kazuha looked freakin' annoyed—he was being even more clueless than usual today.

"Would you come on already?" she reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling him along behind her. "We're almost there!" She dragged him bodily up the walkway to the front door of his home, completely oblivious to the dopey grin on his face.

**_Beware of "helpful" friends…_**

"Uhh…Heiji?" Kazuha began softly. "I don't mean to complain, but…the door's stuck."

Behind her in the darkness of the closet, Heiji cursed under his breath. He was going to get Kudo for this, really he was—and to a lesser extent, Neechan. They'd been surprised to get to Heiji's house and find their two Tokyo friends there.

They'd been doubly surprised when said friends (seemingly in alliance with Heiji's mother) had jokingly pushed them into a closet and shut the door. And now they were getting pissed because they could hear Ran and Shinichi outside the door, whispering.

"Kudo!" Heiji hollered through the door. "Open the door right now!"

"Not until you two accomplish something!" Kudo replied.

Heiji was debating about whether or not to punch the door when Kazuha spoke up, completely derailing his thoughts. "Heiji…what exactly does he mean by that, do you think?"

He swallowed hard. _Uh-oh…_

**_When all else fails, go for the gusto…_**

"Okay…Kazuha, there's something I want to tell you," he said, blurting at least that much out before he could chicken out and change his mind and go back to swearing at the door.

"What?" Kazuha asked. She sounded confused. He couldn't see her too clearly, but he was pretty sure that she was looking at him; he could feel her eyes on him. "What's up?"

"Weeeeeeell…" he half-stammered, becoming more and more thankful for the darkness. She couldn't see him blush. "I…um, I…err…forget it." Mentally, he cursed. He really sucked at this game. "Just forget it."

"…Heiji," she said in a firm tone. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing!" he half-yelped. This was bad.

Kazuha fell silent for a moment. He could almost hear her thinking. That was a bad, bad thing. Kazuha thinking could be very scary—it tended to result in bodily injury. And they were trapped in a very small, confined space, so he had zero escape routes.

"Where are you?" she said suddenly. And then her hands were fumbling at him; they found one of his arms first, and from there moved her hands up to his shoulders. "There. Now what is it you want to tell me?"

"…nothing," he said flatly. "Forget it." Forget that she was close enough for him to kiss her or something like that, and it would be pretty awesome if he could…and not get killed for it. And dammit, when did he start thinking about kissing her?

Maybe he should. Then at least he could die happy.

**_…or just let her do it. Whatever happens first._**

Kazuha's hands moved up his neck to the sides of his face. "Well, if you're not going to do it, then I might as well. Hold still." And she pulled on his head and kissed him…except she had to try again because she missed his mouth on the first try and planted that first kiss right under his left eye. But the second time she found her target, no problem.

…well. That made things a lot easier, didn't it?

Maybe he wouldn't kill Kudo right away, he decided as they enjoyed a very nice moment.

**_Enjoy!_**

"You're still an ahou," Heiji said loftily.

"At least I don't have permanent hat-hair," Kazuha shot back.

Heiji growled…and kissed her again.

Now if they could only get Kudo and Neechan to open the damn door…

* * *

**PS. **_Before anyone asks, I have NO idea whatsoever—I remember that I got the idea while I was washing my hair and trying to rinse shampoo out of my eyes. I actually started this fic eons ago, and then forgot about it, and then stumbled across it again when I was digging through my Documents folder. It still made me chuckle, so I decided to see if I could finish it._

_Some of you might recognize the opening. I wrote it originally for this fic, and then wound up using something very, very similar (…okay, almost identical) as the opening for one of my 30 Kisses for Shinichi and Ran. But…it might be one of the best fic intros I've ever written. So I decided to just leave it—this fic did have it first._

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	27. Puppy Love

**Title: **Puppy Love  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **General series  
**Prompt: **#75—shade  
**Word Count: **# words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **He really had no idea what he was doing, but he was going to do it anyway. Mitsuhiko/Ai

* * *

Mitsuhiko was always all about logic. Science, equations, and rational explanations.

But there were some things that seemed to go beyond the reach of the aforementioned logic. Things he couldn't quite put a proper name to, or explain with reason. And one of those things was the way he felt about Haibara Ai, the pretty girl in his class.

Haibara was a mystery. She seemed a lot older than most of the other kids in class. She had been even more grown-up than Conan-kun had been before he went back to America with his parents. And Haibara was smart—really smart. She knew all sorts of things about science.

And Mitsuhiko was pretty sure he was head-over-heels for her.

Granted, he had heard grown-ups say that it was always so cute when little kids had crushes on other little kids. What had they called it—puppy love? And they always said that it didn't last very long. But…somehow, he didn't think they were right. At least, not in his situation. Because he really, really liked Haibara.

And he wanted to tell her.

The trouble was that he wasn't sure how to go about it. So he decided to seek counsel from someone older and wiser than himself—someone who he knew had some actual experience with this kind of stuff…

**_-o-_**

"Shinichi-niisan!"

Shinichi and Ran both stopped at the sound of his name and turned around. They were slightly surprised to see Mitsuhiko running up behind them. The child skidded to a stop in front of them and then hunched over, hands on his knees, gasping for air.

"Mitsuhiko-kun, what's wrong?" Ran asked.

He looked up at them earnestly. "Shinichi-niisan! I need to know how you and Ran-neechan got together!"

The two high school students looked startled. "I…why do you want to know?" Shinichi asked.

"Well, I…" the child blushed and looked off to one side.

That was enough for the teenagers to get the message. "Well…" Shinichi said thoughtfully, "…when I got home, I told Ran how I felt about her." He turned his head slightly to throw his girlfriend a smile, one that she returned. "That was actually the hardest part of it—but it was worth it."

"Did you know that Ran-neechan would say yes?" Mitsuhiko pressed.

Shinichi blushed a little bit. "I was pretty sure, but there's always a chance. But I got really lucky."

Ran put a hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. "Mitsuhiko-kun, I'm going to assume that there's someone special to you, and you want to tell her, right? Well, I would say just go ahead and tell her. The worst thing that can happen is that she'll say no, right?"

"Just tell her?" Mitsuhiko looked a little bit uncomfortable. But he was really thinking it over…what would be the best way to approach Haibara and tell her that really really liked her?

As he walked away, lost in thought, he didn't hear Shinichi murmur to Ran, "Hope it works out."

Ran nodded. "Just because it might be puppy love doesn't mean it's any less real…or can hurt any less."

**_-o-_**

Okay. There she was.

She'd broken off from the rest of the class to go off on her own. This wasn't exactly a common occurrence, but it happened enough that it wasn't out of character either. He wasn't at all surprised to find her sitting in the shade of a tree in the schoolyard, her Bento box beside her, a book open in her lap. It was one of those thick, important-looking, grown-up books she favored so much.

He had looked at one once, but a good majority of the text had been twelve feet over his head. How did she understand all of that, anyway? Well, that was simple: Haibara was incredibly intelligent. She was the smartest kid in class. Of course she would be able to read books like that and understand them.

It was something he admired.

He had wracked his eight-year-old mind in a desperate attempt to come up with the best way to 'just tell her,' like Shinichi-niisan and Ran-neechan had advised. In the movies, it seemed like the guy always showed up with flowers—girls apparently liked flowers. So Mitsuhiko had looked around and found some really pretty white and yellow flowers growing in a lot near his house; he picked some and brought them with him. They were only slightly smashed from coming to school in his bag, but he couldn't risk Genta seeing them, or else he would never hear the end of it.

Mitsuhiko swallowed hard and crept out from behind the tree, towards her. He didn't notice that her eyes slid towards him before returning to her book long before he figured she would have noticed him. But soon enough, he was approaching, and she looked up at him. "Tsuburaya-kun?"

He stood there for what felt like an eternity and a half, trying to say what he had come here to say. He had even practiced it the night before in front of a mirror. He was totally prepared. But now, with her actually sitting there, waiting expectantly for him to say something…he forgot everything.

So he reverted to default. "Umm…here! These are for you!" He thrust the flowers at her. She took them, giving him that same quizzical look. And he was embarrassed to hear himself blurt it out in the worst way possible. "Uh, umm…I LIKE YOU!" He squeezed his eyes shut and waited to see what she would say.

When she didn't speak, he cracked one eye open to see what the damage was. Haibara was staring at him with wide, startled eyes. Her hand was in a tight fist around the flower stems, like she was afraid they were going to disappear from her grasp if she didn't.

Instinct kicked in with its classic 'fight or flight' choice, and flight won in a solid knockout. "Well…see you later!" he barked before he turned and ran.

Once he was sure he was out of sight, he stopped and leaned against a wall, breathing hard and feeling his heart hammer against his ribcage. Well, that could have gone a LOT better…why did he have to go and freeze like that? She probably thought he was the biggest idiot in the world! Oh, this was bad, this was

"Tsuburaya-kun?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin and whipped around.

Haibara was standing there; she was still holding the flowers, and wearing an unreadable expression. But that was typical of her as well—sometimes it was just impossible to tell what she was thinking or feeling. Still, she seemed to think for a moment before taking a step forward, rising up on her tiptoes, and pressing a feather-light kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

* * *

**PS. **_Yeah, maybe a little OOC for Haibara, but if Shinichi's back and the Black Ops are gone, she can relax a bit, ne? And I think these two are in serious need of more attention, for they are most adorable. Show them the love, everyone!! Thanks for reading, and much love!_


	28. Perfect Timing

**Title: **Perfect Timing  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#9—months  
**Word Count: **554 words  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Half the fun of being a parent is getting to mess with your kids' heads…

* * *

Kazuha stood in the doorway and watched with a small smile as her two daughters jumped on the bed she shared with Heiji. It was a Sunday morning, and they had just finished breakfast; Yukari and Tomoe (ages thirteen and ten, respectively) were still in their pajamas. They hadn't even noticed her presence yet—they were too engrossed in bouncing on the bed and trying to whack each other senseless with pillows.

After a while, she grinned and walked the rest of the way into the room. "Okay, you two, that's enough. I think you're both too old for this." Normally, she would have said something earlier, but she was in an extremely good mood this morning, and so was being a bit more lenient than she might have been otherwise.

The two girls both giggled and obliged, opting instead to give each other one last whap with a pillow before they flopped down onto the bed and laughed. Kazuha sat down on the edge of the bed, chuckling at the antics of her children. Being a parent was tough, but these were some of the best moments of her life.

"Mom, when's Dad going to get home?" Yukari asked.

"He'll be home on Tuesday," Kazuha replied. Heiji had been called out of town to help the police catch a serial killer in Hokkaido. He didn't really like being away from her and the kids for that long, but it couldn't be helped. He had called the previous evening (as he called every night when he had to be away) and told her that they had gotten the killer—he was staying around for an extra day to make sure that the case was truly airtight and that all of the evidence was in order, and then he would come home.

Tomoe, meanwhile, rolled over to lay on her stomach and looked up at her mother. "You guys have such a comfy bed…" she sighed happily and snuggled against the comforter.

Kazuha chuckled. "I have to agree. Actually…" she hesitated, and then decided that she was feeling very mischievous today—and it was her god-given duty as a parent to make sure that her kids had something to tell their therapists someday. "Actually, Yukari-chan…you were started in this bed."

Yukari looked appalled. "MOM!"

When Tomoe started laughing at the horrified look on her sister's face, Kazuha turned a measuring eye on her younger daughter. "What are you laughing about, missie? You were started on the floor!" Now it was Yukari's turn to crack up; Tomoe was pretending to throw up while Kazuha went on. "Yes…we'd gone to a house in the country for our anniversary—Yukari-chan was spending the night with Grandpa. There was a big window and a fireplace in the living room with a really nice rug, so—"

"MOM!!" Yukari yelped again.

Now Kazuha smirked. "Oh, I'll even go you one better—did you know you two had the same due date? Yukari was born on October thirtieth, and Tomoe was born on November third, but you were both due on November ninth."

The two girls gaped at their mother. "Mom," Yukari said slowly, "how in the world did you and Dad pull that off?"

Kazuha's grin grew a little more evil. "Nine months after Valentine's Day. You do the math."

* * *

PS. _I just made up Yukari and Tomoe because I thought Heiji and Kazuha needed kids, and they just pop up whenever the situation calls for them. They debuted in one of my 30 Hugs fics._

_The best part? This entire thing is based on a true story. I will say nothing more, except that it's ironic and slightly amusing (in regards to this fic) that the theme "months" is number nine. Nine months. Hee! Why yes, I am that easily amused. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	29. Vengeance: Gameplay

**Title: **Vengeance: Gameplay  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito, Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#42—triangle  
**Word Count: **314 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Aoko's still not satisfied. Poor Kaito.

* * *

Kaito stared blankly at the television screen, like he thought it might blow up or attack him or start doing a Celtic clogging routine—in other words, he was more than a little apprehensive. "You want to play this game?" 

"Yup!" Aoko beamed.

"…why Guitar Hero?" he asked, adjusting the controller's neck strap over his shoulder.

"Because Guitar Hero is fun," she replied airily. "Now pick your character."

Still wondering exactly why she was so eager to start faux-rocking out—when video games weren't usually her thing—he skimmed through the computer-generated stars. He eventually decided on one, simply because her name was far too appropriate. "I'll be Pandora."

Aoko chose her character—Johnny Nails. "And now for a guitar…" She scanned through a few before picking one that was vaguely triangle-shaped. But before he could do the same, she reached over and tugged on his controller. "I think I'm going to pick your guitar, Kaito."

The warning bells were ringing full force right now.

Still, he waited patiently while Aoko scanned through all of the options, trying to figure out exactly what she was doing. But he got his answer when she stopped and hit the button to select a particular instrument for him. "No. Aoko, no way…" he stammered as she shoved the guitar-shaped controller back into his hands.

Apparently, Aoko was still upset with him for being Kaitou Kid and lying to her about it. There was no other explanation—he had done nothing else in recent times. That had to be it. But this…this was cruel.

Kaito didn't win a single round of Guitar Hero. He was too busy shaking and wondering who in their right mind put a _**fish guitar**_ in the damn game. Aoko, on the other hand, seemed to be having a great time; she went on and had a one-hundred and ninety-six note streak on "Freebird."

* * *

**PS.** _Y, halo thar mini-series! The story behind this is actually rather personal—my best friend Kat and I are extremely cheap dates. Go out for a bite to eat, sit and gab for three or four hours, and then go to Best Buy and play the Guitar Hero demo for an hour. To us, that is an evening well spent. Well, one time we decided to see what all guitars they had there. I found the Log (which was doubly hilarious, considering I had just watched Naruto Abridged and the log is a running joke in that), and Kat found the Fish. Cue the plunnie._

_And yes, Vengeance is a little mini-series running throughout this challenge. There'll probably be a couple others here and there as I get ideas. But I think this was easily the funniest one I came up with._

_ Oh, and MUCH MUCH LOVE TO **DETECTIVE GIRL 2005** FOR BEING REVIEWER NUMBER ONE HUNDRED!!!_

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	30. Beginnings and Endings

**Title: **Beginnings and Endings  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito (General series)  
**Prompt: **#3—ends  
**Word Count: **1542 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **He remembers the day he found out…a Kaito vignette.

* * *

_This is not the end, nor the beginning of the end, but  
perhaps the end of the beginning.  
- Winston Churchill_

He remembers the day he found out that his father was gone forever.

At the age of nine, he came home from school with Aoko in tow, as usual. He can even remember that she was upset with him and chewing him out…also as usual. They walked up the front steps and into the house…and found that Aoko's dad was standing there, talking to his mother.

And his mom was crying.

That was the big sign that something was wrong, and he stopped dead in his track when he saw it. Aoko was walking behind him, and he stopped so suddenly that she crashed into him. She started to say something until she also noticed that something wasn't right.

He stared at her, confused. Moms were supposed to be strong and happy and know all the answers—even when they didn't—and fix things and make any injury better with the healing power of a kiss. Moms were supposed to be able to do anything and everything.

Moms weren't supposed to cry.

She noticed him standing there, and rushed past Aoko's dad. She fell to her knees and wrapped him up in a hug so tight he couldn't breathe. Normally he would have asked her to let go, but something told him that now wasn't a good time to try and wriggle loose. So he held still and let her hold onto him.

After a few minutes, she let go…and told him.

There had been an accident.

Dad wasn't coming home.

Dad was gone.

Dad was dead.

Dead.

That was the end of his childhood, and the beginning of years of wondering.

**_-o-_**

He remembers the day he found out why his father was gone forever.

He would sometimes talk softly to the portrait in the living room when he was alone. It was silly, he knew. But somehow, it helped on days when he just needed to get it out. It would be nice if Dad could hear him, he thought, but he wasn't sure if he believed in such things.

One hand pressed against the picture frame…and suddenly he was falling forward as the picture in the frame spun around, sending him flying into a room hidden away behind the portrait. He had been completely unaware that such a room existed—even though he had lived in this house all his life.

In some ways, it was like something out of one of those stories he had always heard when he was young—a magical world hidden away inside a wardrobe or through a mirror or otherwise tucked away within something completely mundane. In this case, it was a world of real magic…and secrets.

But if Dad had been Kaitou Kid…then who was running around out there right now?

…could it be Dad? Or was it an imposter? One way or the other, he had to find out. And so he pulled on the suit, cape, hat, and monocle for the first time.

He met Jii that night—an old friend and assistant of his father's. But before he could ask any questions, the police arrived with Nakamori-keibu at the helm. There was no time for explanations, and no time to think about things. In a split second, he made his decision…and greeted the Inspector not as himself, but as his new alter ego. He acted on instinct; it felt completely natural.

After they escaped from the police, Jii told him the truth. And that changed everything.

It wasn't until much later that he realized what he had really done. He had committed a crime, if in name only. He had set himself against Aoko's father. And he had embraced the mantle of the person his best friend hated most.

If anything, it was really only that last that made him hesitate. Aoko had been his best friend for most of his life. She was the one who had seen him through his father's death. She had been there for everything…and she was important to him. And she hated Kaitou Kid. For him to become Kid was a betrayal.

But…being up on that rooftop, dancing out of the reach of the police and spreading his white wings for the first time to escape the bounds of gravity…he had never felt so alive. He had gone into the situation blind…and something inside him had awakened on that rooftop. He felt at home inside behind the monocle—like it was what he had been born for. He existed to do this.

So he made his decision: he would become Kaitou Kid.

Deep down, he knew that sooner or later, Aoko would find out. That was how things tended to work out in situations like this, wasn't it? It was inevitable that at some point she would discover that her best friend and the person she hated most were one and the same. But…he had to do this. It was in his very blood.

He would become Kid. It was a risk he would take, and a regret he would live with, if and when it came to that.

That was the end of his innocence, and the beginning of a grand adventure.

**_-o-_**

He remembers the day he found out who took his father away forever.

Standing atop a sky scraper with that evening's prize in his hand, he was met by a gun-wielding maniac clad in black. A man who seemed to have no qualms about shooting to kill with him as a target. A man who wanted to remove Kaitou Kid from the picture permanently.

A man who called him by his father's name.

He was knocked from the rooftop by a bullet after that confrontation…but the prize he lost was not the true one, but an imitation. He followed the assailant, and learned some very interesting information.

There was a allegedly gem somewhere in the world called Pandora. And supposedly, this gem had the power to give its holder immortality. They wanted that power…and had already proven that they would kill to get it.

He had no real belief that a stone with such a power could really exist. It sounded to his ears like a bedtime story for children. Still, he did believe in magic, if only on principle…and so he alerted them to his presence after he had gleaned as much as information as possible, and he told them of his intent. He would find Pandora first, and he would destroy it. They would never get their hands on it or its reputed powers.

That…was not the end. If anything, it was the end of the beginning, and the beginning of something entirely new.

No longer would he, as Kaitou Kid, wander aimlessly, teasing the police and having his fun. Now he had a mission, a specific goal. He would find the gem known as Pandora. And he would make sure they would never get their hands on it. And if at all possible, he would see to it that they were brought to justice for their crimes.

He dreamed that they would be punished for the murder of his father, but on a more practical level he knew that was nigh impossible. If Kaitou Kid specifically accused those men of the murder of Kuroba Toichi…it could open up a can of worms that he doubted could be good from any angle. And there were few, if any, avenues for Kaito to make such an accusation as himself—he doubted he could come up with any truly logical way for him to have stumbled across the necessary information.

So he sadly conceded that justice might have to be delivered indirectly. They had many, many other crimes to their names, he knew. If he could bring them down for those crimes instead, then he could pretend. Or he could comfort himself (to a certain extent) knowing that they knew what they had done. It really was the best he could do without risking blow his cover.

Unless circumstances changed, he would never be able to actually see them condemned for his father's murder. A small part of him hoped that somehow, it would become possible. But contrary to all appearances and most popular beliefs, logic and reasoning were close friends of his—and logic and reasoning told him that if circumstances did shift, he would lose control of his situation. And he could never allow that to happen.

Control was power.

Control was the thin line between freedom and incarceration.

Control was everything.

And he went on, confident in his control and his abilities, to bring down those who had taken someone precious from him…and to make certain that they never got their hands on something they seemed to feel was so important. In a roundabout way, he sometimes wondered if that made him any better than them—seeking to deprive like that.

But in the end, he reasoned…he had never killed anyone.

**_-o-_**

He remembers how he became Kaitou Kid.

It was the end of his normal life…and the beginning of his life as a ghost.

And he lived it with only a single real regret…

* * *

**PS.** _This is written (with much love) for the amazing **Aishuu.** She gave me the quote at the top for a prompt. And this makes thirty fics done for this challenge—almost a third done! Hope everyone liked it—thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	31. The Apartment: Phone Calls

**Title: **The Apartment: Phone Calls  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters:** Kazuha, Ran, Heiji (General series)  
**Prompt: **#90—home  
**Word Count: **2207 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Now that they're settled in, Kazuha has something to take care of…

* * *

One thing Kazuha had done when she came back to Japan was to let a few of her closets friends know that she was back. At the top of her list was Ran-chan—who she somewhat guiltily realized that she hadn't spoken to in months. She sat on her bed for a good fifteen minutes, staring at the familiar number stored on her fine. But finally, with some trepidation, she picked up the phone and hit the button to dial the Tokyo number. 

After a few rings, a familiar female voice came on the line. "Hello?"

She swallowed hard and said, "Ran-chan?" She wondered briefly if Ran would even recognize her voice.

But that dark notion was squashed quite soundly when Ran cheered, "Kazuha-chan!"

Relief flooded her at that—Ran certainly sounded happy to hear from her. And she said as much. "I'm sorry I haven't called in a long time…it's all been really screwed up…I was kind of worried that you would be angry at me." She felt silly saying it out loud.

"Why would I be angry?" Ran sounded startled. Then her tone changed. "Kazuha-chan…what happened?"

Kazuha sighed. "A lot." She hesitated…and then started talking. "You know I went to America, right?"

"Right."

"Well…long story extremely short…I met a guy. We dated for a while, and then…something happened, and I came back," she was really glossing over the important details, figuring Ran would guess. "I'm back in Osaka—Heiji and I just got an apartment."

Ran was silent on the other end of the line for a long moment. "I…wow. Kazuha-chan…wow." She hesitated, and then asked quietly, "Would you tell me what happened?" She seemed a bit nervous, like she didn't know if she should be asking such things. That was Ran, though.

Kazuha thought it over for a split second before deciding she could trust Ran. "I slept with him. And then he dumped me." She heard Ran gasp on the other end of the line, but went on. If she stopped now, she might not finish. "And I freaked out…I barely even remember buying the airplane ticket. The plane right is a blur. Next thing I really knew, I was on his doorstep and crying. And…it was raining. I remember it was raining when I came back."

"Kazuha-chan…"

"I know, I know…" Kazuha sighed. "Heiji knows. I told him everything. I'm sure you can imagine how shocked he was…" The look on his face when he realized what she was saying would haunt her for a long time to come.

"…so you're back with Hattori-kun now?" Ran said slowly, like she wasn't quite sure what to say.

"Yeah. We just got an apartment—two bedrooms," Kazuha explained. "It's a good arrangement, really. It'll be nice to have a friend nearby while I'm trying to get myself re-situated here. I think it's going to work out pretty well."

"It sounds nice!" Ran said, then asked, "Are you and Hattori-kun…what's going on with you two?"

She was more honest with Ran than she was with her father. "We're pretty much together. We…had a little talk about things, and it looks like we're going to give it a go. Trust me—it was kind of a trick." She remembered all too clearly her humiliating behavior upon her return, up to and including the night she had gotten drunk and tried to throw herself at Heiji. She chuckled dryly in spite of herself. "I wasn't thinking too clearly, and I did some really stupid stuff. But it all worked out."

"Are you okay?" Ran asked; she sounded alarmed.

"I'm fine now," she said. "But…I was a mess, Ran-chan." She decided that if she was going to be honest, she might as well just spill it all. "This all happened over three nights. I got there in the middle of the night, soaked and in tears and totally lost. I was a complete wreck. Heiji basically put me to bed. He had to leave the next day for a case, and I got so worked up waiting for him to come back…I found a bottle of scotch in the fridge, and decided that it would help me calm down."

"Oh no…"

"Oh yes. Straight scotch," Kazuha winced at the memory. "Burned like hell, but I was pretty damn desperate. By the time Heiji got home…I could barely see straight. And…I basically threw myself at him. I kissed him. God, I was so drunk. But he sent me to bed. Next morning I woke up feeling even worse. And Heiji had gone out to get some groceries. I guess he figured I would be out cold for a while longer, so he didn't leave a note. But I woke up and he was gone…and I thought the worst."

"What did you do?"

"…I grabbed my stuff and left," she said flatly. "Left a note on the counter, grabbed a cab and went to the airport. I was going to grab a flight back to the States. And he got there right as I got up to the ticket counter and dragged me out of there—and I mean that literally, he grabbed my arm and pulled me out to the parking lot. Later that night…we talked. And yelled. It was pretty bad…really bad. A lot worse than our usual arguments. But…it worked out." She sat back in her chair. "We talked. And that's when we decided to stick together."

"Wow. I…god…"

"I'm sorry I didn't call you when things started getting so bad," Kazuha said softly. "But…you know what? I think it's okay now. I actually feel like I'm home now. It's been a long time since I've felt like that…so long as Heiji can stop being an ahou, we'll be great!" They both laughed before Kazuha went on," Okay—he really hasn't been an ahou at all lately. It's…almost unnerving. He's been great." Her voice faltered slightly. "…really great."

Ran's tone was concerned. "Kazuha-chan? What's wrong?"

She sighed and flopped over onto her back with her head pointing towards the foot of her bed. "…he's been great. And he really has no reason to be. I treated him like crap, I avoided him, I barely talked to him for over a year…but then when I came crawling back, he barely batted an eyelash. He just welcomed me in and took care of me." She felt the first faint hints of burning at the corners of her eyes. "I didn't deserve it."

"…why not?" Ran said reasonably. "You really do beat yourself up too much. He did it because he wanted to."

"I don't totally understand why he'd want to…I was kind of a bitch," she mumbled, not noticing a shadow moving just outside her slightly-ajar bedroom door. "Don't get me wrong—I'm so happy that we're back together and that something's finally happening." She decided to just come clean with it all. "…that was really the reason I left in the first place. Nothing was happening—if he had a clue, he wasn't sharing. I was frustrated, and I acted like a spoiled child—just ran away."

"But you came back," Ran pointed out. "And you worked things out. That's not childish. That's hard to do!" She sighed. "Trust me…it can be hard from both sides to have someone come back after a long absence. Speaking from the other end of that argument, there's a certain amount of doubt and a lot of worry—what if they go running off again? How have things changed between us? How have they changed? How have I changed? But…if you don't let yourself be scared off by all those possibilities…" She trailed off, her tone fond at the end.

Kazuha smiled. "How is Kudo-kun?"

"Shinichi is great," Ran replied. "I didn't get to tell you about all the things that happened while you were away—I think I put the bare bones in my letters, but…god, so much has happened. He's a different person than he was before. I mean, don't get me wrong—he's still cocky and way too smart for his own good and he can and will still babble about Holmes for hours, but…there's something that's changed about him."

"So you two are together?"

"Yes. And it's been wonderful. He's definitely a lot more…affectionate than I'd expected him to be. It took him a while before he could even hold my hand without blushing like crazy. And don't get me started on what it took to get a kiss out of that boy…" she giggled, then sighed. "It wasn't easy at the beginning, though. I kept worrying he was going to take off again or disappear. But thus far, nothing like that has happened." She paused, then said, "I think you two are going to be fine. I really do."

"I really hope so…well, it's almost dinnertime," Kazuha sighed, glancing at the clock on her nightstand and realizing just how late it was. "Heiji should be home soon, so I should probably scrape something together. God knows the man can barely boil water." She laughed—that wasn't entirely true, but it was still always good for a laugh. "But listen—you need to come down to Osaka sometime soon so you can see our new place. And bring Kudo-kun with you. You and I can talk about normal things, and he and Heiji will have a field day nerding out over…whatever it is they want to nerd out over."

"Definitely!" Ran laughed, then her tone softened. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah…I actually feel better now," she said, and she meant it. "A few of those things I haven't even told Heiji. It's nice to get them off my chest. Thanks for listening—talk to you again soon, okay?"

"Absolutely. Bye!"

"Bye!"

Kazuha hung up the phone and swung her legs off the bed and bounded towards the door. She was in a much better mood now—calling Ran had definitely been a good idea. And now to fix dinner for herself and the bottomless pit on legs, otherwise known as her roommate—she sometimes wondered if Heiji had an extra stomach or something…

As she walked out of her bedroom, a hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder.

She let out a yelp as she was pulled backwards against a warm, solid form; two arms snaked around her waist. But she settled quickly and crossed her arms. "God, Heiji! Don't scare me like that!"

He chuckled. "The opportunity was just too good to pass up."

Kazuha was about to retort when something occurred to her, and she felt something inside her go cold at the idea of it. "Heiji…how long have you been standing there?"

Heiji was silent for a few seconds before he said. "…long enough."

She tensed, then sighed. "Really, Heiji. Eavesdropping is really tacky."

"I won't argue with you on that," he said glibly. "But I did learn something important. So…no regrets." When she didn't say anything, he sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't really mean to overhear, but I got home and heard you talking in here and I figured you were on the phone. So I was trying to be quiet, and I heard my name…" He gave her a little shake, not letting go of her. "Kazuha, if you wanted to know…why didn't you just ask?"

When she leaned forward, he was almost startled into letting go of her. But instead she simply turned around in his arms and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Because I really don't want any major drama like we had when I first came back. I'm just being stupid."

"Well, you know what? I'm going to tell you exactly what you don't know," he said. "When you first showed up at my door, you looked miserable. Of course I wanted to know what was going on and what happened, but…it just didn't seem like the time to be asking those questions. As to why I didn't just slam the door in your face…why would I have wanted to do that? I stopped you from taking off because I didn't want you to go running away again. Geez…what I'm trying to say…you wondered why I didn't turn you away?"

She nodded.

"…because I missed you, and I wanted you to stay," he said simply. "Before that, I was about ninety-five percent sure that I loved you. Took one look at you standing there that night, and knew for sure. So of course I was going to do whatever I could to keep you here. And," he leaned back and took her face in his hands, "even if I didn't love you in the romantic sense, we've been best friends our entire lives. That's gotta count for something—including the forgiving of stupid mistakes on both sides. Lord knows I've done my fair share of dumb things over the years. Let's just call that one of yours and file it away."

Kazuha chuckled. "You've done MORE than your fair share of idiotic things."

"Oh, shut up," Heiji rolled his eyes and planted a quick peck of a kiss on her forehead before he let her go. "So. What's up with Neechan? I haven't talked to her in a while…"

* * *

**PS.** _What we have here is what could affectionately be called a recap. This is essentially the whole set-up for this little mini-universe of mine, as based on the final fic for 30 Hugs on these two. Plus, I thought it would be nice to bring Ran (and indirectly, Shinichi) into this._

**_HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BERRY-CHAN!!! _**

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	32. Scene from a Rooftop

**Title: **Scene from a Rooftop  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaitou Kid, Hakuba (General series)  
**Prompt: **#48—diamond  
**Word Count: **684 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Hakuba and Kid wind up discussing something…rather silly.

* * *

An earlier debate with Aoko-san had a rather unorthodox question burning rather vividly in the back of Hakuba's mind as he chased Kaitou Kid all the way to a rooftop several blocks away from the heist location.

He stood there, hunched over and gasping while Kid showed only the barest signs of exertion. And he was rather annoyed when Kid began to applaud. "Bravo, tantei-san!" he cheered. "You've done well tonight! You deserve a prize!" He pretended to think it over—or at least Hakuba had the distinct impression that he was pretending—before he said, "You may ask me one question. I think you know what questions I won't answer. So choose wisely."

Hakuba straightened up. One question…any question he wanted within reason. He tried to think as various questions flickered through his mind. He could ask why he did what he did…who was responsible for the gunfire at the heists (although he still couldn't figure out why Kid would play that information so close to the vest)…why they were shooting at him…why did he return all of his targets—did it mean he was looking for something specific? So many options, and he could only choose one.

Unfortunately for Hakuba, however, every once in a while his mind decided to take on a mind of its own…as it were. His earlier debate with Aoko-san came to the front, and before he could stop himself he heard himself blurt out, "Are you gay?"

As soon as he said it, he slapped a hand to his forehead. He was about to try and protest when Kid started chuckling, obviously amused. "Are you asking for yourself, or is this a 'friend of a friend' thing?" He did finger quotes in the air to accent that last part.

Hakuba sighed. "That wasn't what I meant to say…"

The thief grinned. "Well, since you asked…no. I'm not gay."

"You're not."

"I'm not," he said before switching to a flawless Yoda impression. "Far too much love for the ladies, this one has." Then his expression turned a bit more thoughtful. "Dare I ask where that question came from?"

"If you must know, it was a discussion I had earlier with Aoko-san," Hakuba replied, recalling how their chat about the admittedly-illustrious thief had taken that bizarre turn…while Kuroba sat there, listened, and chuckled as he paged through his morning newspaper.

"Ah, the lovely Miss Nakamori, you mean?" he smiled knowingly. "Quite a charming young lady."

"She hates you."

"I know," the thief replied. "It's rather refreshing to know that morals are alive and well. Her father raised her well, and I tip my hat to him for that." As he spoke, he pulled several small objects from his pocket—including the diamond that was that evening's heist—and began juggling them. "Stealing is wrong. Fun, but wrong. So it's nice to know that there is at least one person out there who doesn't glorify what I do."

Hakuba frowned. "You glorify what you do."

Kid grinned. "Glorifying what I do _is_ what I do."

Hakuba blinked.

The thief changed juggling patterns. "So dare I ask why Miss Nakamori believes me to be gay?"

"It was during the heist at Ojiima Museum, with that necklace," Hakuba replied dryly. "You escaped on a broomstick, and you screamed like a girl. That convinced her. I have to admit, she made a good case…"

Kid paused in his juggling; the stones (including the diamond) landed back in his hands. "Tantei-san, I'd like to ask you a question, as you claim to be the expert on me and my heists," he said slowly. "When, before and since that heist, have I ever used a broomstick to escape?"

Hakuba paused. "…never. You usually use the glider to fly off and…oh." Comprehension seemed to dawn as the half-Brit's eyes widened. "That wasn't you."

The thief merely smiled.

Hakuba pressed a hand to his forehead; he looked embarrassed. "Where was my head on that one?"

"…I'd tell you my theory on that, but I don't think you'd like it very much," Kid said delicately after a pause.

* * *

**PS. **_This entire fic is in existence for one reason and one reason only: I wanted to use the exchange with Hakuba saying, "Where was my head on that one?" and Kid replying, "I'd tell you my theory on that, but I don't think you'd like it very much." I blame **Icka**. Just because it's fun :D Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	33. Risky Behavior

**Title: **Risky Behavior  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#36—smell  
**Word Count: **1977 words  
**Rating: **R (STRONG sexual content)  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Heiji can be quite adventurous. Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

Kazuha had learned many things in a week of marriage.

First of all…Heiji was an incredibly passionate person. Granted, she already knew that to a certain degree…but when wedding vows knocked down a few barriers, she had learned exactly how passionate he was. Or perhaps 'amorous' would have been a better word to describe it.

She was starting to doubt that she would get a full night's sleep anytime soon—if not for the next twenty years.

…oh well. At least it was enjoyable.

She had finally convinced him that yes, they did have to venture beyond the walls of their hotel room and out into public at some point. Plus, she wanted to take advantage of the fact that the hotel had a pool. So after some whining and cajoling—and finally promising that if he would please just stop being a baby and go with her, she would make it worth his while later, the pervert—they headed down.

After an admittedly refreshing dip in the pool, they opted for the hot tub for a relaxing soak. There were two other couples already sitting there, and they welcomed the Osakan pair in with smiles.

"So what brings you two here?" one of the men asked affably.

Kazuha was just sitting down; she opened her mouth to answer when Heiji grabbed her arm and pulled her down to sit in his lap. "Honeymoon," he said with a grin. Kazuha rolled her eyes and gave him a slight elbow-jab to the gut. She would have moved away immediately, but his arms were already tight around her waist. She sighed and got comfortable—no sense in fighting about it.

His answer seemed to please everyone, though. "Oh, how long have you two been married?" one woman asked.

"A week," Kazuha said. "We're here for another four days, and then it's time to go home."

"Such a handsome couple," the other woman said. "Where are you from?"

She opened her mouth, but was cut off when Heiji answered instead—and nearly choked when his hand moved.

Moved down…

**_-o-_**

Kazuha stormed into the hotel room, her towel wrapped protectively around her torso. "I can't believe I let you do that! I can't believe it! What were you thinking? What was I thinking?" she raged, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed, waving one hand in the air.

Behind her, Heiji quietly closed the door…and locked it. Having done that, he folded his arms, leaned against the wall, and grinned—no, grinning was too kind of a word. He was leering at her. "I certainly didn't hear you complaining. Did you like it that much?"

"Ahou!" Kazuha snapped, feeling her face start to burn. He was right, of course, but there was no way in hell she was going to actually admit that to him. She was already trying to deal with the conflicting feelings of how much she had actually enjoyed it and some shame at what she had just done. "God…" She turned away, trying to figure out exactly what to do next.

Still, when he slid his arms around her shoulders, she leaned back into it. "Hey," he murmured against her ear. "I just thought it was a good opportunity. Are you really mad?"

She desperately wanted to say yes…but couldn't. "No. More shocked than anything else." She turned around in his arms and gave him a Look. "At least warn me if you're going to start feeling me up in public!" It sounded ridiculous, and it felt ridiculous to say, but she said it anyway.

Heiji grinned. "So if I warn you, it's okay?"

"…that's not what I said."

By this time he had already dipped his head to start casually teasing her neck. "This could be fun…"

* * *

PS. _This is called "abridging the fic and cutting out all the good stuff so I don't get myself in trouble with ff-dot-net." The full version can be found on my LiveJournal fic-blog (the name there is **candyfics**), if you want to read the whole thing. As to the why of this story, it goes out with love to **Cherry-chan** in exchange for the pretty, pretty fanarts she drew me. LOVES!!_

_Thanks for reading, all—even though it was just a stub of the story. Much love!_


	34. Carted Off

**Title: **Carted Off  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito, Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#59—food  
**Word Count: **430 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Grocery shopping with the family leads to a little panic…

* * *

For all that he could be an annoying, teasing, goofy pain in the ass, Aoko knew full well that she had been very blessed to have Kaito in her life—first as a friend, then as a best friend, then as a boyfriend, and finally as a husband. And, she had to add, he was also perfectly suited to what was potentially his favorite title: father.

At the moment, they were at the grocery store. Aoko was leading the way, armed with a grocery list and a debit card. Kaito was walking behind her, pushing the cart and cheerfully chattering to Aya-chan, sitting comfortably in the cart's baby seat. The little girl was giggling and clapping her hands in delight at her silly Daddy. Aoko smiled at them both—they were a truly happy family.

They wandered the store, finding what they needed, food and non-food alike, before heading to the check-out line. While Aoko handled the cashier, Kaito kept Aya-chan occupied with a game of Patty Cake. They headed out to the car, where he dutifully transferred the groceries from the cart to the trunk while the little girl watched in fascination.

They were parked right next to the cart corral; once the groceries were unloaded, Kaito tossed her the keys, grabbed the cart (with Aya still in it) and moved to push it into its place. Aoko flipped through the keys with intent to unlock the car, but dropped them when she heard her daughter scream. She whipped around to see a very startled Kaito looking down at a sobbing toddler.

"Daddy!" Aya cried. "Don't leave me!"

…it took her a moment to realize what had happened. Kaito had pushed the cart into the corral, undoubtedly with intent to take Aya with him when he came back to the car. Aya-chan, however, hadn't realized that, and had screamed in terror at the thought that Daddy was going to leave her there.

In the time it took her to process all of that, Kaito already had the crying little girl out of the cart and was holding her tightly and rocking her back and forth. "Aya-chan, I would never leave you!" he said, walking back towards the car. "It's okay, s'okay—Daddy's not going to leave you…"

It took a few minutes to get her calmed down and in her car-seat. But as the two parents got into the car, Kaito threw his wife a sad, guilt-ridden look and whispered, "I feel like the worst father in the world."

Aoko patted his arm. "You're fine. And so is she."

* * *

**PS.** _Y halo thar, PWP fic! I saw almost this exact scene in the parking lot at Wal-Mart—except I think it was a dad with his son. And we actually heard the dad say "I would never leave you!" And I thought it was really sort of adorable. So it became a fic with a non-existent plot (and a crappy summary…but I kinda like the title…)_

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	35. Caught Off Guard

**Title: **Caught Off-Guard  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito/Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#5—outsides  
**Word Count: **2252 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Aoko wasn't listening…so he cornered her in the best place he could think of. Kaito/Aoko

* * *

She told him she never wanted to see or hear from him again. 

The former was a bit tricky—they were classmates at school, after all. So there was really nothing Kaito could do to keep her from seeing him every single day. But being in the classroom together didn't necessarily mean that she had to speak to him…or that he could get close enough to even try to speak to her. Aoko was taking this seriously.

He had known that if she ever found him out—and somehow, he realized he had always known that sooner or later she would discover the truth—it would hurt her, and she would probably hate him for it. But he wasn't quite as prepared as he thought he was for how much her rejection hurt him.

It wasn't her fault. He had really set both of them up for this by his own actions, and he accepted total responsibility for the current state of affairs. Aoko had done nothing wrong, and was doing nothing wrong. Her reactions were all completely appropriate. But he couldn't help but want her to know the whole story.

But Aoko was proving a tough nut to crack and a tough prey to corner. And Kaito was growing desperate—he just wanted to talk to her one more time, to get it all out in the open and put all his cards on the table. Still, she avoided him at every turn. How did she do that, anyway?

Finally, he decided that if he was going to have his say, he was going to have to catch her off-guard…

**_-o-_**

Aoko was quite enjoying her shower when she thought she heard something. She froze, listened, but heard nothing save the sound of running water. Shrugging to herself, she went back to her scrub-down and humming…until she heard it again. This time, it was unmistakable—footsteps moving on the tile floor.

With a slightly shaky hand, she carefully pulled the shower curtain back, just enough to let her peer out, and—"Kaito!" she yelped, snapping the curtain back into place and drawing back into the safety of the shower. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Sure enough, Kaito was sitting on the toilet—or more specifically, sitting on her towel and clothes on the toilet. "I know this is extreme, but I wanted to talk to you, and I was running out of ideas," he said quietly, with none of his usual humor. "So…here I am."

Aoko wrapped her arms protectively around herself. "I swear, Kaito…if you try to—"

"I'm not going to do anything," he said far more sharply than she could ever remember him speaking to her; she heard movement. "I won't even look. My back is to the shower." He sighed. "I guess I thought you would know enough of me to know that I would never hurt you like that." Now he sounded…hurt?

And truthfully, she knew he was right. They had been friends since they were five years old; they were now eighteen. Thirteen years together—nearly their whole loves—and Kaito had never laid a hand on her. He flipped her skirt sometimes to sneak a peek where he shouldn't, and he love to tease her, but he had never done anything to physically harm her. Not once.

Emotionally…that was another story, especially recently. But he was right.

"…I know," she said softly. "That was wrong of me. You just…caught me off-guard." She couldn't bring herself to apologize outright—he didn't deserve that, she told herself. But she would admit to stepping over the line. "Why are you here?" He had already told her that, but she just needed to change the subject.

If he noticed, he said nothing about it. "I want to talk to you. You're really hard to corner when you're angry, you know that?" The comment seemed rather sad. "I know this is over the line. But I want you to hear me out. And then I'll leave you alone. But…I thought you deserved to know why this is all happening."

Huddled in the bathtub, Aoko tried to weigh her options. She was naked and completely vulnerable, with Kaito sitting just outside the shower curtain, holding her clothes and towel hostage. She knew she was physically safe, but still—she had told him she didn't want to speak to him again. Yet here he was.

"What if I say no?" she ventured; her voice came out surprisingly timid. "What if I tell you to leave?"

"Then I'll leave," he said flatly. "But I really want you to know why. I'm asking for ten minutes. That's all."

Aoko was about to tell him to get the hell out…but now she was curious. She had just realized exactly how many questions she had as opposed to precious few answers. And she was hard-pressed to come up with a good reason why her best friend (former best friend, she reminded herself) would do something like that. And ten minutes against a lifetime…

Sighing quietly in defeat, Aoko whispered, "Tell me."

There was a moment of silence before he began. She stood quietly and listened as he told her of his father's secret and how he had discovered it. He spoke of going to the site of Kid's latest appearance to see if maybe, somehow, it was his father there. There, he met an ally and fell into his destiny. There were murderers out there looking for him and his target—the jewel they had murdered his father for. He wanted to bring them down, and find Pandora first.

True to his word, it took about ten minutes for him to tell the story. "…I don't regret what I've done. I don't regret becoming Kid," he said softly as the last words of his tale faded into silence. "But I regret that I had to lie to you. But I didn't want you to have to choose."

The bathroom went quiet.

Aoko belatedly realized that she was cold, and shivered slightly. She was going over his story, thinking things over. Was it enough to justify what he had done? She hated Kid and everything he did…but she didn't hate Kaito. And that left her conflicted and hurt and angry.

After a long, tense minute, Aoko made her decision. "Kaito…will you please get out of my bathroom?"

She heard movement, footsteps…and then the door opened and closed. She waited a moment longer before she reached out and retrieved her towel. It didn't take her long to make herself presentable, and she walked out into her house, finding it empty.

The front door was locked. And Kaito was gone.

**_-o-_**

The clock tower was always so lovely at night when it was lit up against the dark sky.

Kaito had left Aoko's house without fight or protest. He'd said what he needed to say. She had been a quiet, if captive, audience…but she had listened. And when he was done, she had told him to leave. So he had complied quietly, leaving her to escape from her damp prison.

His intention was to go home and honor his promise to never bother her again. But somehow, he found himself drawn to this place. This was where their story began. He had stolen this tower that once because of it…

What he'd said to Aoko was true—he didn't regret becoming Kid, and he didn't regret doing the things he had done. But lying to her…he hated that. Even with the mask of Poker Face, he had always been more himself around her than anyone else, save his own mother.

He stood there for what felt like a very long time, looking up at the tower and letting himself drift back through his own memories. And goodness, there were a lot of memories…Kaito was so lost in the moment and the place that he didn't notice someone standing next to him.

That is, until she spoke. "It really has been a long time, hasn't it?

Kaito didn't jump, but he was surprised to turn and see Aoko standing beside him. She was wearing her jacket over her pajamas, and her hair was still wet. And she was looking up at the clock tower as well. He smiled and returned his gaze to the sky. "It has." There was a pause. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"I don't know," she said simply. "But I came out to look for you, and something just told me to come here."

"…why were you looking for me, anyway?" he asked.

Aoko turned a wry look on him. "I told you to get out of my bathroom, and you disappeared. You're really not very good at following directions, are you?" She looked back up at the tower and unknowingly spoke in an echo of his earlier thoughts. "It's beautiful at night, isn't it?"

"Yeah…"

"I was so angry when Kaitou Kid said he was going to steal the clock tower," she said softly. "Because this place is special. I didn't want him to have it."

He smiled. "I'll let you in on a little secret—remember that code left behind at the heist that night?"

"Yes…"

"I will not give this tower to anyone," he said. "That's what it meant."

Aoko was silent for a moment. "So that's why…"

"You thought I'd forget that?" he chuckled. Somehow, this conversation felt more like they were back in the old days, before Kaitou Kid had created an invisible wall between them. And it was definitely a great deal more comfortable than anything had been over the last couple of days. It seemed fitting, though, that they should have this moment here—outside the clock tower, where they met.

To his amazement, Aoko also allowed herself a small, dry laugh. "I was thinking about what you said."

He dropped his gaze to look at her again.

"I remember when Mom died," she went on, still gazing up towards the sky. "She'd been sick for so long…I'm sure you remember that, too." He nodded, though she didn't see it. "When she died, I didn't really understand—I was too young. But when I did understand…I wanted to have someone to blame for it. I wanted someone I could hate for taking my mother away."

Kaito took a slow step towards her.

"I tried to hate the doctors who took care of her…but there was one doctor. I was drawn to her because most of the other doctors were men, but she was a beautiful lady. And I liked her," Aoko kept talking; it was more like she was speaking to herself now. "And she was always nice to me. I remember when she tried to explain to me what cancer was and that it had killed my mom…and I know now that doctors in that area really have to harden themselves against a lot. But I remembered how sad she looked…and I couldn't hate her for not being able to save Mom. So there was no one left to blame."

She sighed and finally dropped her eyes to the sidewalk at her feet. "But I got to thinking…what if there had been someone? What if someone had taken Mom away—a person, and not an illness? And what would I do if I knew about it? Or what if something happened to Dad? And…I realized I didn't know."

Kaito inched a bit closer.

"I imagine finding out about your father was a big shock—I know it was for me," she said. "And then finding out who his murderer was and knowing you had the power to at least _try_ to do something about it…"

"Aoko—" he started to speak, but he was cut off when she turned to look at him. And something in her crystal-clear blue eyes stopped him cold. He realized that he was completely bewitched by those eyes…and he liked it.

"I hate Kaitou Kid. Nothing will ever change that," she said firmly. "I hate what he does, and I hate the fact that he keeps making my dad look like an idiot and so Dad has to stay out all the time trying to catch a friggin' ghost. So make no mistakes—I. Hate. Kaitou. Kid."

He was about to make a comment about how he would be worried if she didn't…but she cut him off again. "But…I don't hate you." Her expression softened. "I don't hate you, Kaito. I don't like what you're doing, and I hate the fact that both you and Dad are in danger because of it. But…all things considered…" She trailed off, averted her gaze for a moment, then met his eyes squarely.

It took Kaito a moment to process all the implications of that statement. Aoko didn't like what he was doing, but she didn't hate him…she was accepting him. She was accepting him for who he truly was—for _what_ he truly was.

For a split second, he was completely overcome by the realization. And in that second, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. He heard her gasp slightly before she relaxed into it. They stayed like that for several seconds before he (reluctantly) loosened his hold. He didn't let go of her entirely, though; she leaned back in his arms enough to look up at him. "Kaito…?" she said softly, questioningly.

He smiled—one of his rare, truly genuine smiles. "Thank you."

* * *

**PS. **_…okay, what the heck happened? This was supposed to be a HUMOROUS FIC in which Kaito corners Aoko in the shower and it is full of LULZ. Where did all this drama come from? …I am going to blame it on my shampoo, because most of the second half hit me while I was in the shower. I SHAKE MY FIST AT YOU, HERBAL ESSENCES!! …ahem. I'm okay now._

_Also, in honor of Lurker Day, I thought it would be nice to point out that **today is the one-year anniversary of this challenge. **It has been one year to the day since I posted the first fic for this--also posted for Lurker Day. So after one year, I am thirty-five themes into the challenge. Not too shabby, ne?  
_

_L'anyhoodle, thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	36. The Apartment: Washout

**Title: **The Apartment: Washout  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#93—Thanksgiving  
**Word Count: **651 words  
**Rating: **PG-13 (for mentions of nudity)  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Well, this was awkward…a little moment in the laundry room. Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

It was part of their agreement as roommates. They each would do their own laundry. It was easier, and a whole lot less awkward than doing it together and then separating it. Either way, someone would eventually wind up seeing something that they probably weren't supposed to see…yet.

For the record, Kazuha was a little bit more diligent about getting her clothes washed than Heiji was. And it was because of this that he found himself in the laundry room in their apartment at two o'clock in the morning, waiting on the washing machine. The reason? He had just realized that he was out of a few things in clean form, so he decided to just get it done.

Kazuha had been sound asleep when he'd crept in here. So after debating about it for a moment, he decided to do everything and start over with a completely fresh wardrobe. And by everything, he meant everything. Which is why he was sitting in the laundry room naked, reading a book and waiting for the washer to ding so he could get that load in the dryer and get on it. At least he didn't have anywhere to be in the morning…

Finally, the washer buzzed, and he got up to rotate the laundry. That load went in the dryer, and the next load found its way into the washer. He started both machines and once again sat down to wait. All in all, this wasn't proving to be too bad of a chore. It just took forever.

He was debating about whether or not to sneak out to the kitchen to get something to drink when Kazuha walked into the laundry room. "Hey," she yawned. "Sorry to bug you…forgot to grab my shirt for tomorrow…"

It took a second before Heiji realized his rather vulnerable state at that moment. "Ah, well…um…"

She looked around the laundry room at the piles and the whirling machines and shook her head before looking _directly at him._ "This is why I keep telling you not to put this off until the last minute. You wind up with absolutely nothing to wear, and it's nobody's fault but your own," she scolded him before turning to a few shirts hanging up in the room. She selected two hangers and turned back to him. "Which one do you think?" She held one up in front of her, and then the other to give him an appropriate visualization.

"Um…the black one," he said nervously. Why did she keep looking at him? Had she no decency? Couldn't she at least avert her eyes or something? He was naked, for crying out loud!

But this was Kazuha. Of course she couldn't. "The black one? Awesome!" She smiled and hung the red shirt back up on the wall. "I should really put these back in my closet…eh, I'll get them tomorrow." Then she looked at him (again!!). "So what do you have planned for tomorrow? Anything special?"

"…nothing that I know of…" he murmured, shifting uncomfortably. His book had found its way awkwardly into his lap to act as a shield. It was the best thing he had at the moment, and he really couldn't grab for anything else without exposing far more than he wanted to at this point in their relationship.

"That's probably a blessing," she chuckled. "You're going to be up for quite a while if you're going to finish all this tonight. So you'll be able to sleep in a bit."

"Yeah…" he said.

"Well, I'm going to head back to bed and let you get your laundry done," she yawned again. "Goodnight!"

"Night…"

It wasn't until after she'd walked out of the room with her shirt in hand that he realized something rather surprising: throughout their entire conversation, her eyes hadn't drifted below his chest. Not even once.

Heiji wasn't sure whether he should be thankful…or offended.

* * *

**PS.** _They don't actually have Thanksgiving in Japan, as it is an American holiday. So I sort of stretched the theme a little bit to make it work. That's half the fun of these challenges—figuring out different ways to look at the theme and make it fit into your story. I think I did a Hugs fic with the theme of 'oxygen,' and it was mentioned as bleach (hydrogen peroxide). That might be why I love theme challenges so much!_

_And we have another apartment fic! YAY! This goes out to **strawberry-chan**, who once requested that I write for her "Heiji and Kazuha…pantsless." That was the prompt, pretty much word for word. So here it is. Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	37. Vengeance: Pucker Up

**Title: **Vengeance: Pucker Up  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito, Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#49—club  
**Word Count: **414 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Aoko can't let Kaito forget that she knows he's Kid, can she?

* * *

In spite of how upset Aoko had been when she found out that Kaito was Kid…things were progressing.

It was the little things that said the most—occasionally finding themselves holding hands, sitting and standing a little bit closer together than they used to, more frequent moments where they really didn't have to say anything to know that things were (more or less) all right…and then there were things like the skirt-flipping and mop-chasing that really proved the old saying: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

But one afternoon at Aoko's house, she dropped a bombshell of a hint. And with his overwhelmingly intuitive knowledge of the fairer sex, he picked up on it, and read it as her telling him that she really wanted him to kiss her. What was the clue she dropped, you might ask?

She turned and looked him straight in the eye and said, "So are you ever going to kiss me or what?"

Once Kaito remembered that breathing was a good idea, he leaned in for the kill…

…but whatever it was that met his lips didn't feel like Aoko.

He opened his eyes…and found himself staring into the eyes of something orange.

And white.

And fishy.

Kaito was off the floor, over the couch, and to the door in zero-point-three seconds, swearing like a sailor.

Standing in the middle of the room, holding a fish stuffed animal, Aoko was laughing her head off. "Aww, what's the matter, Kaito? Don't you like Finding Nemo?" She gave the plush animal a squeeze and smirked. "And before you say anything—yes, you do deserve all of this."

"Aoko…" he said in a strained voice, giving her a glare that could have turned rain into snow on the spot. "…I get it that I'm a royal rat bastard and all that fun stuff for lying to you about Kid, but this is insane. Do you get off on this or something? And if that's the case, then why not save us both a lot of trouble and just let me—"

It was probably a blessing that Aoko chose that moment to start clubbing him over the head with the Nemo plushie. Because there was no way in heaven or hell that whatever he was about to suggest was printable. And that meant that if he'd actually voiced it, Aoko would have probably decided that it was no longer worth her while to let him continue breathing.

* * *

**PS.** _I would like to attribute this idea to the lovely and awesome **fireblazie**—she used the idea of a Finding Nemo plushie in her fic The Marriage Chronicles. Which is an awesome fic, just in case you haven't read it. In which case you should immediately go read it. Just so you know._

_It's kind of fun to come up with all these different ways to work fish into things. Feel free to make suggestions, if you like—I like input! Anyway, I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	38. In the Rain

**Title: **In the Rain  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Yuusaku/Yukiko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#66—rain  
**Word Count: **659 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She stole the umbrella and started running.

* * *

When Yuusaku suggested a walk, it seemed like a good idea. The weather was nice and cool, and though it was a bit cloudy, it was still otherwise fairly nice out. Still, just for safety's sake, Yuusaku came to pick her up with an umbrella tucked under his arm.

They wandered the park for a while, pausing to watch the ducks on the lake. There were a few children out there feeding the birds with scraps of old bread and having a great time doing so. The couple laughed as one small boy started chasing a duck around the grass near the lake. The duck won that particular race.

And then the rain came.

It started with a few sprinkles, then picked up pace until it was more like a monsoon than anything else. The young couple took refuge under a tree, where they opened the umbrella and ducked under it to watch the rain pour down.

"Well, this was brilliant," Yukiko quipped.

"You agreed to it," he replied dryly. "And I didn't think it would start coming down until later."

"Oh well," she shrugged. "So should we wait it out or head home?"

"Whose home?"

"Either. Or both." She did spare a moment to wonder why he was asking in that particular tone, but decided that she wasn't going to look at it too closely. It could burn her mind's eye if she did.

"Let's brave it," he said after a moment. "We could be here a while if we wait for it to stop. At the very least, we could get to someplace dry to wait."

"Sounds like a plan," she cheered. She put on hand on his arm to stay close and thus stay under the safety of the umbrella. They started walking quickly through the storm.

"I do like the rain, though," Yukiko commented after they had been walking for a little while. "It's romantic!"

"If you consider getting soaked and winding up freezing romantic, then yes, it is," Yuusaku replied flatly.

Yukiko frowned at him. Then her expression changed to a near-smirk. "Oh really? Maybe you just need some help seeing how romantic the rain can be?" He was about to reply when she snatched the umbrella out of his hand. And then he was getting soaked as he watched Yukiko sprint ahead. With the umbrella.

"Hey!" he shouted. She sped up in response, and he did the same; she glanced back over her shoulder, saw that he was gaining, and started running outright, laughing her head off. Recognizing the chase for what it was, he broke into a run as well.

The chase took them through much of the park. But finally, he caught up to her by the fountain. Or rather, she stopped running and spun around, swinging the umbrella in a wide arc around her before letting go of it; it splashed into a puddle on the ground.

Yuusaku dashed at her, slowing just before he collided with her. When he did run into her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her clean off her feet, spinning her around before putting her back on the ground.

By then, her arms were around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. They were both completely drenched as the rain fell on and around them, but neither cared how wet or cold they were. All they really cared about at that moment was right in front of them. The umbrella lay in the puddle on the sidewalk, momentarily forgotten.

When they broke apart, Yukiko grinned up at him shamelessly. "Told you so."

"When you're right, you're right," he admitted.

They paused only long enough to pick up the slightly-messy umbrella, which was then folded and stuck back under Yuusaku's arm; given their present state, it was worthless to have it open. Then, hand in hand, they began walking through the rain once again.

What a wonderful day it was.

* * *

**PS.** _This was taken from one of my **40 Dates** for Yuusaku and Yukiko. In that, in was a forty-word ficlet. But I liked the idea, so I expanded it into a full-length story. This is the result. There was one other fic in 40 Dates that's going to be reworked as a full-length fic as well. A couple of ideas I just couldn't ignore._

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	39. Stupid Boys

**Title: **Stupid Boys  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Ran, Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#20—colorless  
**Word Count: **671 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Ran stopped and looked up at the sky, the rain falling on her face. A friendship fic.

* * *

When they came out of the store, it was pouring. It had merely been cloudy when they'd gone in to get groceries, but now they had two options: stay there and hope that it passed over quickly, or venture out into it and make a break for the Mouri Detective Agency.

They waited for a few minutes, but when it didn't seem to be letting up, they decided to brave the torrent. They stepped out into it and were immediately soaked. The groceries were more or less protected in their bags; the colorless plastic was fairly waterproof.

"I'm sorry, Kazuha-chan," Ran said apologetically as they trudged through the rain. "Maybe I shouldn't have asked you to come with me."

"Nah, it's okay," Kazuha waved it off; water droplets sprayed off the tips of her fingers as she did so. "Just think of it as having an adventure!" She did a little spin to accent her point, sending water flying from the end of her ponytail. "And the boys are missing out!"

Ran laughed; then her expression grew thoughtful. Her steps gradually slowed until she came to a stop.

Kazuha danced ahead a couple of meters before she noticed that she was suddenly alone. She also came to a halt and looked back at her friend. "Ran-chan? What's wrong?"

But Ran didn't seem to hear her name or the question. Her eyes were focused upwards, towards the sky; the rain fell directly on her face. "I wonder if Shinichi's out in this weather," she murmured, barely loud enough for Kazuha to hear it. "I hope he's okay, wherever he is…"

Kazuha stared at her friend for a long moment. Ran looked so lost right then, and so lonely…it was almost infuriating, really. How could Kudo-kun just run off and leave a sweet, wonderful girl like Ran to sit around and wait for him like this? If he knew how much she was pining away for him, what would he do? Would he come running back? Or would he just keep doing what he was doing?

…and how did he feel about Ran, anyway? Kazuha didn't know the boy terribly well (though Heiji seemed to), but she had to believe that there was a reason for that boy's absence. There just had to be. It there wasn't, then he didn't deserve Ran, as far as Kazuha was concerned. If that Kudo guy really didn't know how Ran felt about him, then he was probably more clueless than Heiji.

And that was saying something.

Kazuha walked up to Ran-chan. She watched silently for a moment as her friend stared up at the rain. Then she reached out and took Ran's free hand in both of her own.

That seemed to surprise Ran out of her momentary stupor, and she looked down at Kazuha with wide eyes. And for a moment, she really wondered if Ran was crying. It was impossible to tell in the Rain. "W-what?"

But Kazuha smiled gently and gave Ran's hand a squeeze. "He'll come back. I know it. He _will_ come back to you sooner or later. I mean, how could he not?"

Ran stared at her for a few seconds before she smiled back and nodded. "I know," she said softly. One hand moved to rub at her eyes, giving credence to Kazuha's earlier notion that Ran had been crying. "Sorry…"

"It's okay. But when he does get back…" Kazuha added brusquely, "I'm giving him a piece of my mind! How could he just leave you behind like this? Stupid boy…"

She was rewarded when Ran laughed—a small, light sound. "I can't wait to see that!"

"Come on," Kazuha pulled gently on Ran's hand. "We'd better get back before my walking black hole of a best friend starts eating your furniture out of desperation and hunger. God, why are both of our boys such idiots?"

This time, Ran laughed out loud, and they started walking again towards home, where their stupid boys were eagerly waiting to be fed.

* * *

**PS.** _Wow, two rain fics in a row! How did that happen? But anyway, this goes out with luff to the awesomely amazing **Hakaisha**, who requested the Ran/Kazuha friendship fic with a prompt of "in the rain without an umbrella." Hope you liked it, hon! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	40. Nursing

**Title: **Nursing  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#57—lunch  
**Word Count: **1153 words  
**Rating: **PG-13 (just to be safe)  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Mommy, how does the baby eat?

* * *

One day, Aya-chan had noticed that Mommy's lap was getting smaller. Or Mommy's tummy was getting bigger.

When she asked what was going on, Daddy had pulled her into his lap and explained to her that Mommy was going to have another baby. The baby was growing inside Mommy, he said, and in a couple of months they would go to the hospital and she would have the baby and then Aya-chan would have a little brother or sister.

As he said that last part, Daddy had made a pretty white rose appear out of nowhere and tucked it behind her ear. She giggled and clapped her hands—she loved it when Daddy did magic tricks like that!

But then she thought of a Very Important Question, and decided to ask. Daddy didn't know everything—that was Mommy's job—but he did know a lot, so maybe he would know this. "Daddy," she asked innocently, "how did the baby get inside Mommy?" Daddy's eyes got very, very wide, and Aya-chan frowned and wagged a finger at him. "Did you have something to do with it?"

Strangely, Daddy started coughing and had to go get a drink of water. Mommy stood in the doorway and laughed.

She never did get an answer to that question. Maybe Daddy didn't know after all.

**_-o-_**

A couple months later, Aya-chan came out of preschool and found Grandpa Nakamori waiting for her instead of Mommy. She ran up to him with her arms out, and he caught her for a big hug. "Grandpa, what are you doing here?" she asked as he got her into his police car. She liked riding in that car.

"Your father called me and asked me to pick you up," he replied. "Aoko—your mother is having the baby."

Her mouth formed into a big O-shape. "Are we going to the hospital?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, buckling his seat belt and starting the car.

"Mommy and Daddy are there?"

"They're already there," he said, putting the car into gear and backing up. "By the time we get there, you might already be a big sister. The baby might have already been born by the time we get there." Kaito had sworn up and down that he would call again once it was all over, and the call hadn't come yet.

They cruised along, heading towards the appointed hospital. Aya-chan chattered happily in the backseat about her day at preschool and the picture she had drawn for her mother and how a boy in the sandbox had tried to kiss her and she'd pushed him. Nakamori-keibu nodded approvingly at that last, though he knew that Aoko would not have approved. Still, damn boys needed to keep their hands off his granddaughter!

As they pulled up to the building, Ginzo said over his shoulder, "Look out the window. That's the hospital."

Aya looked out the window and smiled. "Is that where the baby's gonna get all borned up?"

He bit back a laugh. "Yes, sweetie. It is."

They had literally just pulled into the parking space when his cell phone rang with the much-anticipated call.

**_-o-_**

Aya-chan crawled up onto her mother's hospital bed (with a little help from Daddy) and proudly handed her mother a bouquet of flowers. Once the call had come that the baby had been born and both mother and infant were just fine, the gruff Inspector had taken a little detour with his granddaughter to a shop across the street to pick up some flowers for Mommy.

Aoko was visibly delighted. "Thank you, sweetie!" She took them and inhaled the fragrance. "They're beautiful!" She handed them to Kaito, who obligingly arranged them on the nightstand. "Aya-chan, you're a big sister now. You have a little brother."

"Really? Where is he?" Aya crawled closer, then looked down. "Mommy…you got your lap back!"

Kaito chuckled and ruffled her dark hair. "Yes, she did. And the baby is…right there!" A nurse had just arrived with a bassinet, in which was a small bundle. He walked around the bed and gathered the baby, bringing him back to the bed and holding him so Aya could see him easily. "Aya-chan, this is your brother."

She clambered over to look. "He's so little!"

"You were that little when you were born," Aoko spoke up.

"What's his name?" she asked, continuing to regard the infant with fascination.

Aoko's smile softened, and she met her husband's eyes before she answered. "Toichi."

**_-o-_**

When Mommy brought the baby home, Aya learned a lot of new things. For one, babies were very, very noisy. And they needed a LOT of attention. It seemed like little Toichi was always screaming and crying and fussing. Mommy and Daddy seemed really tired all the time.

Another thing was that babies didn't eat food like she did. Mommy would fix her lunch, and then sit with the baby in front of her. One day, she put down her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and asked, "Mommy, don't babies eat?"

Her mother looked blank for a moment, then smiled. "Babies do eat, but not big girl food like you eat."

"What do they eat?"

"Babies drink milk," Aoko said. "He's eating right now."

"But where's the milk coming from?" Aya prodded further.

Aoko and Kaito had discussed this. They knew that Aya would have questions about the baby and how they cared for him, and they had decided to answer all of her questions honestly. There was no reason to hide any of this from her, even if she didn't necessarily understand it all. It was all perfectly natural. Granted, Kaito had choked when she had asked how the baby got into Mommy's tummy…she suspected she would chuckle about that for a long time.

"There are special glands inside Mom's breasts that made the milk, and the baby sucks it out through the nipple," she said simply, shifting slightly to let the baby have better access.

Aya's eyes widened. "That's what those are for?"

"Well, that's one purpose…" Aoko said wryly.

"What else do they do?"

Aoko thought of her husband and shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

"So the baby is eating now?"

"Yup!"

Aya frowned, then hopped off her chair and toddled out of the room. A moment later, she came back.

When Kaito came home a few minutes later, he walked into the kitchen and was treated to the sight of his wife nursing their new son…and his daughter holding one of her dolls under her shirt in an imitation of her mother's posture. He set his bag down and stared. "What are you two doing?"

Before Aoko could say anything, Aya spoke up. "Shh!" she said loudly. "The baby is eating!"

He looked over at Aoko, who smiled. "We talked about nursing."

"Ah. I see."

"Daddy?" Aya spoke up in a very exaggerated whisper. "What else are breasts used for?"

* * *

**PS.** _I fought to keep this from being crude! You have no idea how hard it was! So Aya-chan pops back up for another appearance as her usual adorable self. I rather love my Little Plot Device. And for the record, I will not tell you which parts of this are based on stories my mother taught me about myself!_

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	41. Old and New

**Title: **Old and New  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Yuusaku/Yukiko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#94—Independence  
**Word Count: **534 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She likes different things, both modern and traditional. Yuusaku/Yukiko

* * *

She likes different things, both new and traditional. She is old enough to respect some old-fashioned things and ideas (though she despises using the word 'old' to describe herself in any context), but young enough to embrace modern ways of thinking.

The first time she met the young up-and-coming writer, she thought he seemed arrogant, but he was not an unkind person. He certainly was handsome, and the interest seemed mutual. So she let him pursue her as was traditionally acceptable…but she did not hesitate to steal the first kiss.

She likes it when he opens doors for her, but will go out of her way to jump in puddles when it rains—none of that "laying the coat across the puddle" business. It takes all the fun out of things.

She likes it when he brings her flowers, but welcomes the chance to surprise him now and again.

She likes it when he is a gentleman, but is perfectly happy when he isn't so much. After all, she doesn't bother being completely ladylike all the time. That would be boring.

She accepts his marriage proposal, but will break it off and walk away if his attitude changes. Fortunately, it doesn't.

She likes the idea of being swept off her feet by a knight in shining armor, but sometimes she prefers to keep her feet on the ground and his hands to himself.

She carries roses when she marries him, but when it comes time to ride off into the sunset, she'll ride her own horse. And none of that side-saddle stuff. Proper or not, it's far too uncomfortable.

She gives up her career for him, but if he expects her to become a meet, obedient little housewife, he's in for a rude surprise. Her mind is hers, and she will speak it. When necessary, she will speak it loudly.

She bears their son and is a mother, but she has no qualms at all about kicking her husband out of bed on occasion when Shin-chan would cry at three in the morning. He bore half the responsibility for the source of the disturbance, and so she figured that the world-famous novelist could just go ahead and haul his world-famous self out of bed and go take care of their son sometimes.

She overlooks his faults most of the time, but when it's needed she will point them out. Someday he'll realize that it is extremely annoying to have to continually field phone calls from angry editors. Perhaps then he will also understand that when she says she's going to put him on a leash, she isn't joking.

She is loyal, but she is not above trying to rattle his chain once in a while. If he's going to come home drunk and smeared with lipstick, then maybe a little bit of worry will do him some good.

She loves him. There is no "but" to that. She loves him because of everything that is right between them, and in spite of everything that isn't.

She is his. And he is hers. They are both independent, and they are no one's property…

But at the end of the day, they belong to each other.

* * *

**PS.** _This started as a forty-word ficlet in **40 Dates for Yuusaku and Yukiko**, and I loved what little of it I had. So I expanded it into this longer fic. I'm overall really pleased with how this came out. I do love the dynamic of the relationship between those two crazies—I wish we had more of it in the canon._

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	42. The Apartment: First Love

**Title: **The Apartment: First Love  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#76—who?  
**Word Count: **1271 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **It was something about the cherry blossoms… Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

The cherry blossoms were falling, and so Kazuha packed them a picnic lunch and suggested they go out to the park to watch. She also told Heiji (in no uncertain terms) to leave his cell phone at home. Even if it was for just this one afternoon, she was determined that they would not be interrupted by a call to a murder.

And for once, Heiji agreed.

They made their way to the park; the place was already swarmed with people, all there for the same reason. Still, they were lucky enough to find a perfect spot right underneath a particularly lovely tree. Heiji took the blanket and spread it out over the grass, and they sprawled out on it. For once, there was relatively little conversation between them. They ate quietly and simply watched the pink-white flowers float from the trees to the ground.

When the last bites had been chewed and swallowed and the remnants packed away in the basket, they sat there and observed. It was so lovely and peaceful; it felt like they were the only two people there, despite the fact that there were possibly hundreds of people wandering the area.

Kazuha tilted her head back and looked straight up towards the sky. "Beautiful…"

Heiji turned to look at her with his mouth open to agree…but the words died on his tongue as he looked at her. She was leaning back, looking up as the blossoms fell around her. A few were even caught in her hair, resting on her skin and shoulders, standing out against the dark green of her shirt. Her eyes were shining, her lips pulled back into the softest of smiles.

She made for quite a pretty picture.

And suddenly Heiji found himself in a moment between two times. There was the now, where she was an adult and a beautiful young woman and he knew he loved her…and there was the then, when he caught a glimpse of a girl in a kimono playing with a ball and singing. Two different scenes of the same person from different times intermingled, connected by cherry blossoms.

_Finally…_

He felt himself smile at the memory, the realization that the girl he had seen then was the one he loved now.

_Finally…_

"Heiji?"

_Finally, I can see you._

"Heiji?"

A hand touching his shoulder brought him back, and he realized that she had caught him staring. "W-what?"

Kazuha raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced as she brushed a few petals from her hair. "Maybe we should go home…" And somehow Heiji knew that the question hadn't been dropped yet…

**_-o-_**

He turned out to be right. When they walked inside, she brought it up again. "What was up with you?" she asked, setting the basket on the counter. "You were just sort of…staring."

Heiji smiled. "Nothing…"

"No. Not nothing. Something!" Kazuha put her hands on her hips. "You were staring at me, so I can assume it had something to do with me. So I have a right to know what's going through that head of yours."

He regarded her silently for a moment. "Do you really want to know?" It was something he had thought about the entire way home. Should he tell her about it? Should he just let it stay in the past? It really had no bearing on things now, but at the same time…it did. And if he was going to get like this every time he saw her anywhere near cherry blossoms, maybe it would be wise to tell her the reason why.

"Yes. I do."

"All right," he shrugged and plopped down on the couch. She followed and sat down next to him, sitting sideways so she could look at him properly. He waited until she was situated, then said, "Do you remember my first love?"

The wince that flickered across her face was impossible to miss. "Yes, I do. You told me about her. Sort of. You met her in Kyoto, right?"

"Right. Did I ever tell you that I found out who she was?"

Kazuha's eyes widened to almost double their normal size. "W-what? You did? When?"

Although he was pretty sure he knew what kind of thoughts were flashing through her mind and that none of them were true, it was sort of amusing to watch her freak out. "Back during that case with the Genzihotaru in Kyoto."

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she seemed to decide on which question to ask first. "Who is she? Do you ever see her? Do you talk to her? What's her name—what's she like? Is she pretty—" That was when Kazuha seemed to realize exactly what she was saying and what it sounded like, and put her fingers over her mouth to stop herself from saying anything further.

Heiji couldn't quite keep himself from smiling. "Are you okay?"

"Fine!" she squeaked—literally. Her voice on that one syllable was probably high enough to crack glass. But she cleared her throat loudly and spoke again, this time at her normal pitch. "So. Tell me about her."

"What do you want to know?" he asked, enjoying this far more than he should have.

"Well…what's she like?"

"What's she like? Well…" he sat back and pretended to think. "She's usually pretty nice, but she has a stubborn streak in her a mile wide, and if she gets angry, you probably don't want to get in her way. She'll kill you. She usually doesn't take a lot of crap from anyone."

Kazuha's eyes were slowly getting wider. "I see…is she pretty?" There was a suspicious quality to her tone.

"Yes, she is quite pretty," he said glibly.

"Oh…" was all Kazuha said.

Heiji couldn't quite contain himself anymore. "Do you want to meet her?"

Now she looked startled. "Meet her? I—I mean, sure! Why not?"

He jumped up and grabbed her hand. "Come on!"

"Wait! You mean right now?" Kazuha gaped. "But—Heiji, it's late! And shouldn't we call first?"

"Oh, don't worry," he said, pulling her off the couch. He turned her around and put his hands over her eyes. "Okay, now we're ready. Time to move, walk forward, one foot in front of the other!" He was really enjoying this.

"Heiji, what the hell are you doing?" she yelped as he dragged her along by her head. Finally, they came to a stop, and she folded her arms. "You are psychotic, you know that?"

"Ready to meet my first love?" Heiji asked.

"…I guess so," Kazuha said; there was no mistaking her bewilderment.

Heiji removed his hands from her eyes and walked back towards the kitchen.

Kazuha blinked. "Heiji?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you mean by…" she trailed off as she seemed to get it. "Oh…" In the hallway mirror, her reflection echoed her look of comprehension. She stared at herself for a long moment, understanding something she only now realized she had forgotten.

_Finally, I can see you._

He had said that in the train station after the Genzihotaru case, and refused to explain it. Now she knew.

But then…everything he had just said and done when she was asking about the mysterious First Love…

She turned to look towards the kitchen, where he was cheerfully downing a bottle of water. Despite the fact that he had the beverage to his lips, she could see that he was smiling. And she felt herself smile in return, in spite of the fact that he had…

"Heiji…" Kazuha shook her head slightly. "You asshole."

* * *

**PS.** _Ah, bliss. Heiji is an ass in this, I know. But it was fun. Anyway, thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	43. In the Script

**Title: **In the Script  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito/Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#88—school  
**Word Count: **681 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Am I so unfortunate-looking that you just can't bring yourself to kiss me?

* * *

When Sensei announced that their class would be doing a special project, everyone was intrigued. When she told them that the aforementioned special project was to put on a play for Parents' Night, everyone was actually kind of excited about it. They dove into rehearsals and all the necessary planning to get ready.

Casting was a cinch. Kuroba Kaito was a natural choice for the leading man. He was handsome, well-spoken, and very much at home on the stage. Though many in the class knew him better as a magician than anything else, he was a surprisingly good actor, and so the leading role was his.

A few of the more vocal members of the class did gossip a bit, though, about the fact that Nakamori Aoko landed the female lead. Said vocal class members (all of them female, by the way) were incredibly suspicious. Had she rigged it somehow so she could star opposite her best friend and reputed love interest?

Of course, they all overlooked the truth, which should have been the most obvious thing: Kaito himself had played his hand carefully to ensure things were as he wanted them. This wasn't just for Aoko's sake, of course. The play had a very nice romance scene, and…well, if he absolutely had to kiss a girl on stage in front of lots and lots of people, it was going to be the girl of his choice. But of course, no one needed to know that.

And so it was that the cast list was decided and rehearsals got underway.

But when they got to the romance scene, however, they hit an unexpected snag: cold feet.

The entire class was incredibly anxious to see that particular scene. Kuroba and Nakamori were practically married (or so thought most of the class), so getting to see them actually kiss was a long-awaited even for some of their classmates…and grounds for justifiable homicide for a few of the girls. Even if it was merely in the script.

But both of the stars seemed to freeze at the idea of having to kiss each other, much less kiss each other in front of other people. This did lead to a few rather humorous moments of improvisation—handshakes, big sweeping hugs, and one especially amusing interpretive dance number. But the kiss itself remained elusive.

One day, they were in the auditorium where the performance would take place. Kaito was sitting up in the front row, studying his script. Aoko approached him and stood in front of him, waiting until he noticed her presence and looked up. "Hey, what's up?"

She leaned down and put her hands on the armrests of his auditorium seat—one hand on each side of him—and gave him a Look. "Is there something wrong with me?" she asked angrily.

He looked blank. "Huh?"

"Am I deformed or something?" she went on. He realized what she was asking, and was about to reply, but she barreled on ahead with, "I realize that I am not God's gift to men, but am I really so unfortunate-looking that you just cannot bring yourself to kiss me and pretend that you like it?"

"Aoko—"

"I mean, it's not even like it's a real kiss."

"Aoko—"

"You're just acting. You're a good actor, remember?"

"Aoko—"

"So can we please just get this over with and then get on with ignoring the teasing?"

Kaito dropped his script, reached up with both hands, grabbed the sides of her face, and rose out of his seat a little bit, enough to press his lips against hers in a very quick kiss. Then he let go and sat back down with a thump. He waited a moment for her to react; she seemed to have frozen. Finally, he waved a hand in front of her eyes. "Aoko? Yoo-hoo? Anyone home?"

Aoko straightened up, her face a brilliant crimson color. "I…err…I mean…you die."

Kaito grinned shamelessly. "You're pretty when you're trying to decide whether or not I get to keep breathing!"

She swatted him on the head. "BAKA!"

* * *

**PS.** _A slightly different take on Kaito and Aoko's first kiss. None of that pansy romance stuff! Hee! Hope you liked the random silly. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	44. Rather Unusual

**Title: **Rather Unusual  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Hakuba, Kaito (General series)  
**Prompt: **#10—years  
**Word Count: **149 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Hakuba wants to ask Kaito about his name.

* * *

"I've been meaning to ask you about your name."

Kuroba looked up. "What about it?"

Hakuba folded his arms. "Well…Kaito. It's a rather unusual name, isn't it?"

A big grin made its way across the magician's face. The kind of grin that said it was good to be alive. The kind of grin that said Hakuba was going to be very, very sorry in a few minutes. "It is. My father named me."

"I see," Hakuba said. It seemed to jive with what he knew of the late Kuroba Toichi.

But before he could say anything else, Kuroba added, "Yes. Dad died two years before I was born."

Hakuba froze. "He died two years…then how did he name you?"

Kaito seemed to radiate false innocence. "He left a note for my mother."

"…knowing you, that's almost possible," Hakuba deadpanned. One of these days, he would learn not to ask.

* * *

**PS.** _I did a drive-by ficcing on Icka's LJ with this, and it made me giggle so much that I had to post it here. I should also add that it's inspired by something I heard on a Muppet Show skit :D Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	45. The Letter

**Title: **The Letter  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#2—middles  
**Word Count: **541 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **He needed to find the perfect words. Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

After years of friendship and months of total denial, Heiji had finally come to terms with the fact that he had managed to fall in love with his best friend somewhere along the road. Somehow, she had managed to get under his skin, and he was grudgingly forced to admit that he couldn't live without her.

The ahou.

He couldn't bring himself to tell her this face to face, though. No way, no how. It was embarrassing enough to feel this way in the first place; he didn't need the added humiliation of her laughing in his face over this. But he wasn't really a guy who was capable of keeping secrets (as Kudo could well testify), so it had to come out sooner or later in some fashion.

So he decided to write her a letter. That way he could drop it in her mailbox and run…and play dumb if need be. Letter? What letter? I didn't write you a letter! Must have been those damn ninjas. I tell ya, they're everywhere…

The real trick was to find the right words and get them down on paper. And Hattori Heiji was certainly not a man known for his great eloquence. So this was proving to be a bit of a challenge. He was doing really well, though! He had a great beginning (_Dear Kazuha_) and an ending (though he couldn't decide if he should leave it as just _Heiji_ or make it _Love, Heiji_). What he lacked was a middle.

The number of crossed-out words and unfinished attempts had already deemed this copy a VERY rough draft, and gave testimony as to how long he had been at this. He thought carefully, then put his pen to the paper once again.

_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day…_

Heiji paused, then shook his head and drew a line through what he had just written. Poetry and eloquence (and thinking before he spoke) just weren't his style. He pondered, then tried again.

_We've been together for a really long time…_

No, that wouldn't work either. He just wasn't much of a sentimental person…unless it involved younger versions of himself watching younger versions of Kazuha bounce a ball and sing amidst falling sakura petals. But that was another story for another day.

He needed to find something that really spoke from his heart. Something that reflected his feelings. Something that would tell her what he wanted to tell her, but still stay true to the person he really was. Heiji thought and thought and thought…and finally, the perfect thing came to him. It was exactly what he needed to say.

The pen went back to the paper, and he wrote.

_**-o-**_

Kazuha frowned at the envelope. She had come home from school and checked the mail, as usual, and found an envelope in there with her name on it. No stamp, no return address, and no postage mark, which meant that it had probably just been slipped directly into her mailbox.

She flipped it over and pulled the paper from it; unfolding it, she began to read…and her eyes widened.

_Dear Kazuha,_

_You're hot._

She blinked and looked at the signature—Heiji's name.

Somehow, that just made all sorts of sense.

* * *

**PS.** _This goes out (with massive quantities of love and adoration) to __**girlquinn**__, who inspired it. And to everyone else, thanks for reading! Much love to you as well!_


	46. Business as Usual

**Title: **Business as Usual  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi, Megure (General series)  
**Prompt: **#8—weeks  
**Word Count: **430 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **It was too much to hope for that things would return completely to normal…

* * *

Shinichi had known fairly early on that even after he beat the Black Organization and returned to himself, things would never be able to return to normal. Or at least they would never be exactly as they had been before. That was too much to reasonably hope for.

Still, he had hoped things wouldn't explode like this. But…well, he knew that he'd brought it on himself, at least to a certain extent. He had lied about Conan, and hidden from a good many people. Said people had plenty of reason to be upset with him…and they were. Weeks had passed, and he still felt like a hermit, hiding out from the world.

Ran had forgiven him. That meant the world to him, meant more than anyone else's reaction. He still had her. Things would never be the same as they had been before this whole thing began, but…as she had pointed out to him, there was always tomorrow. And then she had kissed him.

She really was his constant, and always had been. Even when the rest of his world went to hell in a hand basket with a pretty pink bow and people were still angrily avoiding him, she was there. He was determined not to betray her trust again, and he had already told her that he would spend the rest of his life making this up to her if need be.

Ran hadn't seemed to mind that too much. Maybe he should give her a call…

He was startled out of his daydreams by the sound of the phone ringing. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he moved out into the foyer and lifted the receiver. "Hello?"

"Kudo-kun?"

…that was definitely one of the last voices he'd expected to hear. "Megure-keibu?"

The Inspector's voice was hurried, and there was a note of something in his voice that Shinichi couldn't quite place. "There's been a murder, and we could really use your skills out here." A pause, then he added in a surprisingly fond tone, "You feel up to it."

"Sure—I mean, yes," Shinichi was surprised to hear himself stammer. "I'll be there right away."

"Good." He rattled off the address and ended the call.

Shinichi stared at the beeping receiver in his hand. He had just gotten a call.

To a case.

A murder case.

From Megure.

He felt a slow smile cross his face as he hung up the phone and went to grab a jacket.

Things were starting to look up. Maybe "back to business as usual" wasn't that far off after all.

* * *

**PS.** _A random little thought that's been bouncing around in my head for a while, and it feels good to get it out. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	47. Codename

**Title: **Codename  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Conan, Heiji (General series)  
**Prompt: **#60—drink  
**Word Count: **452 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Something tells me this guy isn't a high-ranking Syndicate member.

* * *

It was a stroke of pure chance. Conan privately thought that it was the first thing to go right in a long time.

But being in the right place at the right time (with the right wooden pole in Hattori's hands to act as a makeshift katana) had allowed them an unprecedented opportunity to apprehend a Black Organization operative as he tried to sneak away from the scene of one of his dastardly doings.

The man had obviously thought himself home free, and so was unprepared for a wooden pole swinging at him. Add one of Conan's magical little sleeping darts, and the operative was soon out cold on the concrete. The police were summoned via a quick call from a cell phone.

Once the suspect was restrained to their satisfaction, the boys began checking for weapons and identification. Anything that could tell them anything about their prisoner before the police arrived. In the unconscious man's pocket, there was a wallet. Conan snagged it and opened it, hoping for something—anything that could be of use to them and their investigation…

…well, who knew the Syndicate members had ID cards?

But then again that made sense. If the Black Organization was as far-reaching as he had been led to believe, then it stood to reason that one member couldn't possibly know all the other members on sight. So they had to have some manner of recognizing each other, and a nondescript card seemed a good way to do it.

It made a lot more sense than strolling up to miscellaneous people in black trench coats and asking if they'd killed anyone important lately. That could cause suspicion and raise a few eyebrows.

While Heiji continued to search the man's pockets, Conan examined the card. It was nothing of great noteworthiness unless you knew what you were looking for. A piece of black plastic, the same size as the average driver's license, with white writing on it. The word "Syn." was in one corner (Syndicate, he assumed), and was he figured to be this man's codename within the Organization.

He read the codename over three times. Nope, it was still the same.

Again, it was one of those things that made sense. The Organization members were frequently given codenames based on various alcoholic beverages, so it stood to reason that this one would pop up. But at the same time it seemed so ridiculous…

"Hattori," he said slowly, "something tells me this guy doesn't have too high a rank in the Syndicate."

The Osakan teen paused in his search. "Why do you say that?"

"If this is to be believed," Conan held up the ID card and chuckled dryly, "…his codename is Beer."

* * *

**PS.** _This hit while I was sprawled on my bed listening to the __**Pirates of the Caribbean**__ soundtrack on my mp3 player. And I just had to write it. Do you think there's really an operative out there with the codename Beer? I think there should be. And I know that the idea of them carrying cards with their codenames on it is really far-fetched. But I have a Across membership card in my wallet, courtesy of the first __**Excel Saga**__ DVD. So people do carry strange things in their wallets that most people wouldn't make anything of unless they knew what it was. My friend Ashley packs a pitch-pipe._

_Almost to number fifty, whee! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	48. On a Dare

**Title: **On a Dare  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Ayumi (General series)  
**Prompt: **#13—yellow  
**Word Count: **590 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Ayumi just had to go into the creepy house and wave from the window. Simple, right?

* * *

Taking this dare was the stupidest thing she had ever done, Ayumi reflected. But there was no turning back. Or rather, there was no way to turn back without Genta braying about it for the rest of her life. So she pushed open the door, wincing as it creaked ominously, and let herself into the decrepit old house. 

It was one of those houses that seems like it's always been there—most neighborhoods have one. No one could remember when the ancient place was built, which led kids to spread campfire tales about how it had sprung up overnight, rising up out of the fog. And of course the rumors all said that it was haunted by all sorts of ghosts, including one particularly gory story about a brutal homicide of a woman and how her spirit had been seen weeping in the house, usually by a "friend of a friend."

Ayumi, believing herself to be practical, discounted these stories. But now that she was inside the house, she found herself thinking that maybe they held a little more water than she'd initially thought. There were certainly a lot of noises around her that didn't seem quite right for the setting…

The terms of the dare were fairly simple: Ayumi was to go inside, make her way upstairs, and wave at them from the highest window she could get to. And then get out as fast as possible. So she tightened her grip on her flashlight and pressed on; the yellow beam of light was like a lifeline right now.

Stupid Genta and his stupid dares…

She hurried up the stairs. The sooner she waved from the window, the sooner she could get out of there. If her sense of direction was right, the room she needed to go to was through that door there. She opened it and walked inside, a cloud of dust kicked up with each step she took.

This room looked like a bedroom, and not an adult one. There were old toys scattered around, and a bed with a broken frame off to one side. She caught a glimpse of a mirror in the corner; her reflection stared back at her a dozen times over because of the cracks across the silvery surface. It was all decidedly creepy, yet somehow it reminded her a little bit of her bedroom at home. This was probably a very happy place when there was a child living in the room.

And there was the window on the other side of the room. She crossed the room, taking care not to step on anything, and paused only long enough to fumble with the latch. It was rusty, but she managed to get it open and push the window open. She stuck her head out and waved. "Hey!"

On the street below her, Genta and Mitsuhiko waved back. Conan and Ai looked…sort of bored.

Her mission accomplished, Ayumi shut the window and relatched it. Then she heard a sound behind her—like wind rushing past. Strange, though—there was no wind tonight, and she had just closed the window…

She turned around, her handing shaking even more violently…and found herself looking at a ghost. A white semi-transparent form with a large head, floating in the air mere meters away from her. It was staring at her with surprisingly wide eyes, which she was sure were a match for her own.

Ayumi opened her mouth to scream when suddenly the ghost zipped right up to her and spoke.

"Hi! I'm Casper!"

* * *

**PS.** _Written for the Halloween fic-swap prompt on the LiveJournal community__**manycases1truth**__. My prompt was "Ayumi finds a house that is really haunted." This was the first idea that popped into my head, and it was the one that stuck. So here it is, silly as it is. Casper, of course, is a reference to good ol' Casper the Friendly Ghost. _

_Only two more until we reach the halfway point, WHEE!! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	49. The Apartment: Reunion

**Title: **The Apartment: Reunion  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#63—summer  
**Word Count: **4506 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Someone's come up for a visit…and reopening an old wound. Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

It had been a rainy spring night when Kazuha had returned to Japan. 

Time had passed, as it tended to do, and it was now late summer. And she was quite sure that she had never been happier. She had a wonderful home, and she had Heiji in her life…things were pretty peachy, as far as she was concerned. Oh, there were rough moments—she and Heiji still bickered sometimes, and on rare occasions they outright fought. But the fights were quickly forgotten and even more quickly forgiven.

It was like a little oasis of sorts. She was on top of the world, and nothing could bring her down. Such was the state off affairs on one particular summer day. It was beautiful outside—the sun was shining and there was a pleasant breeze to keep it from being too hot. It was idyllic, and Kazuha was in a very good mood.

She was lounging around, waiting for Heiji to come home from a case (he owed her a rematch from a rather heated game of Go Fish from the previous evening), when there was a knock on the door. Figuring it was her father or perhaps Shizuka-san or someone to that effect, she bounced off the couch; humming to herself, she moved to the door and opened it…and her smile immediately morphed into wide-eyed shock. "What're you doing here?"

The person at the door—a rather handsome young man her own age, and definitely not Japanese—grinned and spoke in flawless English. "Hey, babe! Long time, no see!" he walked right past her into the apartment without waiting for an invitation in, pausing only long enough to lean in and press a kiss to her cheek.

Kazuha was still a moment, torn between being stunned and being disgusted. Then she closed the door and walked after the guy, watching as he strolled around. He seemed to be checking the place out. Unconsciously, she pressed her fingers against the spot on her cheek. "Adam…what are you doing here?" she replied, also in English—she'd studied the language before going to America, and her grasp of the language had improved exponentially during her time living in the country.

"I was in the area, and figured I'd look you up," he explained, examining a picture on a table. "Nice place you've got here! You living alone or what?" He straightened and wandered into the kitchen. "Got anything to drink?"

Kazuha almost asked how in the world he could have been in the area, but then remembered something—he had told her once that it was his dream to go to Japan someday. And he had always asked to hear what Japan was really like. So he had finally made it. Good for him. "Adam, you need to leave," she tried to sound firm, but her voice wasn't cooperating the way she wanted it to.

"This your bedroom?" he asked, walking into her room. "I guess you've got a roomie, huh? Is she hot?" He leered at her over his shoulder, and she felt slightly nauseous. "Nice, nice, very nice…" What was he doing? He was walking around like he owned the place, like he hadn't just barged into her home. And then he added the kicker, "Is your roomie gonna be out for a while still?" His sneer grew more pronounced. "We could do some…catching up?"

Kazuha knew exactly what he was asking, though. He wanted to know how long they were going to be alone. What he didn't realize was that she would have rather taken a bath in boiling bleach than indulge what he was actually suggesting—it would have felt a whole lot cleaner, at least. "I don't think so," she said coolly. "I want you to leave."

"Whew, not a very good hostess, are you?" he walked back past her, not-so-subtly letting his hand brush against her.

"I would be if my so-called guest hadn't decided to just invite himself to my home," she replied. "Adam, leave."

"You don't mean that."

"Get out."

"Who's the guy?" he asked suddenly, examining another photo.

She rolled her eyes. "That's Heiji. I mentioned him before. Now leave."

"What's your problem?" Adam raised an eyebrow.

"…what's my problem?" she stared at him in disbelief. "My problem is that you just barged into my home unannounced and uninvited, and your 'conversation' has been nothing but inappropriate comments and badly-disguised innuendos. I want nothing to do with you, Adam—get out."

His green eyes flashed—that was a bad sign. "Liar."

"Get out before I call the police. I know a lot of them."

"You're a liar," he repeated. "You never did know what you wanted."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're wrong—I always knew what I wanted. I was just too scared to go and get it. But you know what? Things are different now. I know exactly what I want, and I have it. And I'm happy." That was the biggest difference between then and now, really. Then, she had been "happy." Now, she was happy.

He stared at her angrily for a moment. And then he moved—quickly.

His hands found her face, one on each side. The action startled her, and she tried to jump back. But he held on and pulled her forward…and kissed her hard on the lips. There was nothing even remotely loving about it, though. The kiss held nothing of caring and everything of power and possession, like a punishment. How dare she turn him away—it was his decision to make, not hers.

Kazuha felt her eyes go wide at the contact. For a moment, she just froze—she didn't even know what to do or how to react. Should she push, should she bite him, what to do…? Her mind didn't seem to want to work, she was too stunned to even think…

And then she heard a sound that sent her heart crashing into her slippered feet: the apartment's front door opened, maybe two meters away. And Heiji's voice speaking, trailing off. "Hey, I'm…home…"

Kazuha wanted to die.

**_-o-_**

Solving a case frequently put Heiji in a good mood. Coming home to Kazuha put him in an even better mood. He was pretty sure she was going to demand another round of Go Fish—it had rained the night before, a big summer storm, so they had made hot tea and played cards. And for some reason, she just couldn't win at Go Fish. He'd creamed her six times in a row, and she had vowed vengeance and made him clean up.

But when he opened the door…

He'd started to call out to her with a cheery, "Hey, I'm home!" But the words had gotten lost when he actually saw what was going on: there was some strange guy standing in the middle of the living room…kissing Kazuha.

Heiji felt something deep inside him shatter. He froze in the open doorway and just gaped for a moment.

Not sure what to do or think, he turned away then. A thousand and one questions flitted through his mind, and none of them had answers. Who was he? Why was he kissing Kazuha? Did Kazuha want him to kiss her? Had she been…unfaithful? No, dammit—he wanted to punch himself for that last. She would never.

Never.

But Heiji was a detective—and he was as good as he was because he let the evidence lead, and he would follow it to the conclusion, no matter how unlikely the conclusion seemed. The clues told the story; he just read it. And right now, the clues were telling a story about betrayal. He closed his eyes…

And then he heard a loud crack, followed by a thud.

And Kazuha's high-pitched shriek. "What the HELL are you doing??"

Heiji's eyes flew open, and he whipped around to see the young man sitting on the floor, one hand clutching at his nose. Kazuha was standing over him, fists clenched at her sides; her face was flushed, and she looked absolutely FURIOUS. "What is wrong with you?" The guy stared at her in obvious shock, and when he didn't reply, she pointed to the door and addressed him one final time through clenched teeth. "Get. Out. Right now."

To his credit, the guy did as he was told. He was off the carpet in a heartbeat and rushing past Heiji to get out fast enough to break the sound barrier. Heiji turned his head slightly to watch the guy sprint off, then turned back to Kazuha, who was panting slightly. Unsure of what he should say, he just said the first thing that came to his mind. "So…he a friend of yours?" Immediately he gave himself a sharp mental kick in the arse and made a note to never, ever say the first thing that came to mind again.

But the damage was done: Kazuha's face crumpled. She gestured helplessly with her hands, as though trying to convey something, then apparently gave up. She turned and walked to her bedroom, the first tear already making its way down her cheek.

Heiji stood there for a few seconds, then slipped off his shoes and followed her. She had left her door open; normally if she absolutely wanted to be left alone, she would shut her door and occasionally even lock it. An open bedroom door was an invitation to come in and check on her.

So he did.

When he walked in, she was curled up top of the comforter, her head pillowed on her arms and pointing towards the foot of the bed. She didn't move when he came in, though he knew she had to have heard him. More importantly, there was no way she could have missed the shifting of the mattress when he sat down on the edge of the bed. She knew he was there; she just wasn't acknowledging him…which wasn't a total rejection. So he didn't leave.

He also didn't speak right away. But after a moment, he sighed. "What happened?"

She was facing away from him, and didn't turn to look at him when she answered. "His name is Adam Knudsen. And he's from America." Her voice had a very slight hoarse quality to it, which he took to mean that she was close to crying, but not fully there yet. "He was in town, so he thought he'd look me up."

"Was he a friend of yours?" Heiji asked.

"…you could say that."

Something about the way she said it gave him pause. "Kazuha…?"

She was quiet a few seconds before she said, "He's the reason I came back here in the first place."

The penny dropped, and with it Heiji's lower jaw. "That was—him?"

Kazuha nodded.

Silence lapsed while Heiji processed and Kazuha waited for the axe to fall.

Finally, he asked, "What exactly happened?"

"He knocked on the door—I figured it was one of our parents or something. And then he sort of barged in and started looking around and…making suggestions." He saw her shudder, as though she didn't want to remember whatever it was that this guy had suggested. "I told him to leave. I told him I didn't want him here, and he called me a liar…we argued. And then he grabbed me and he kissed me. And that's when you walked in," her voice cracked on that last.

"I see…" Heiji said quietly.

Kazuha sighed shakily. "I feel like a whore."

That surprised him. "Why?"

"I should have just punched him at the get-go," she said. "Or thrown him or something…instead I just froze and let him do that. I'm not supposed to kiss anyone but you." She almost seemed to curl up tighter, pulling into herself. "I'm sorry, Heiji…"

"It's not your fault," he said, scooting a little closer and reaching out with one hand to touch her hair. She was wearing it down today—which he not-so-secretly loved—and so he carefully threaded his fingers into it. He knew from experience that the simple gesture tended to have a very calming effect on her. "You told him to leave, and he didn't. He's the one who was trying to start something."

"…it's not just that," she said. "It's…everything." Still, he could already see some of the tension leaving her shoulders as he combed her hair with his fingers.

He didn't push that issue. He knew what had happened between Kazuha and…apparently his name was Adam. Up until that point, he had been simply the nameless, faceless 'guy in America.' He had never asked for details about that encounter—he knew enough to know that when she had come back, she had been in pieces. And it wasn't something she talked about very often.

"Are you angry?" she asked. "And be honest."

"…I was shocked when I came in and saw that because I didn't know what to think. Now…I'm angry, but not at you," he replied, and it was the truth. "I'm more angry at him…and at myself, for closing my eyes when I did. I didn't get to see you deck him." It was an attempt at a joke, and he hoped that it would work.

For a moment, she didn't react. Then she chuckled ever so lightly. "That did feel pretty good…"

His hand dropped to her shoulder and pressed gently, encouraging her to roll over onto her back. "Kazuha, I'm not going to tell you to just forget about it—I know you can't do that. And I'm not trying to make light of everything that's happened between you and him. But you know what?" He propped himself up on one elbow and smiled at her. "He blew it. He's an asshole, and he blew it, and you found something better. Or at least I hope it's better…"

She smiled slightly. "Definitely better." She reached up and brushed at his bangs.

Heiji frowned. "Not that I had a lot of competition…" That time she laughed, and he felt vindicated.

**_-o-_**

Within a couple of days, Kazuha was back in her normal good spirits. She obviously hadn't forgotten what had happened, but she didn't seem to be letting it get to her. Beating Heiji at three games of Go Fish and several rounds of checkers might have helped—even though she knew he'd let her cheat at checkers. She had to—after all, he had conveniently looked away at some shiny object while she switched a couple pieces around, and then pretended that even being as observant as he was about details…he didn't notice the change.

True love, right there.

She left around eleven to go meet her father for lunch, so Heiji had the place to himself. Unless he got a call about a case or something like that, he wasn't planning on going anywhere. So he sprawled out on the couch with an Ellery Queen novel and a pillow. It was just going to be a nice, lazy day, it seemed.

He was about halfway through his favorite mystery when there was a knock on the door. Immediately, something heavy dropped into the pit of Heiji's stomach—he had a bad feeling about this. Nevertheless, he got up and went to the door and answered it.

Sure enough, The Guy was standing there. Heiji still preferred to keep this person nameless. "What're you doing here?" he asked in perfect English, not bothering with any sort of manners. He also made sure to keep himself squarely in the doorway so there would be no passing him into the apartment without a fight.

"I could ask you the same question," The Guy (…okay, so his name was Adam) retorted.

So he didn't know. Maybe enlightening him would drive home the fact that he had lost and get him to go away. "I'm here because I live here." He took a small amount of pleasure in the way the guy's eyes widened; he also noticed that Kazuha had been right—this guy did have dark green eyes, very similar to Heiji's own. "Now I'm going to ask again. Why are you here?"

"Where's Kazuha?" Adam demanded, shaking off his surprise.

"She's not in right now, may I take a message?" Heiji replied, privately thinking that any message left would be written down just so he could take a katana to it and burn the remaining shreds…and then maybe scatter the ashes on the wind. Or something. Whatever the case, he wasn't going to let this guy get near Kazuha again. He had done way too much damage already.

"…are you and her...?" Adam didn't full ask the question, but Heiji knew what he meant.

"Kazuha and I are dating."

"And living together?"

"Yes," Heiji replied. "We've been best friends since we were kids. I wanted a roommate, and she wanted someone around while she was getting her feet back under her in Japan." That was the truth—just not all of it. The only reason he was explaining anything to this guy was for Kazuha's sake. He was pretty sure this guy was going to jump to all the wrong conclusions.

Sure enough… "You done her yet?" he asked, leaning against the wall and folding his arms.

Heiji reminded himself that murder was illegal and tended to make the nice policemen get very angry. "No."

"Why the hell not?" Adam looked at him like he was crazy.

"Because that's our choice," he replied. "And it's really none of your business either way."

He certainly wasn't going to tell this horrible man that the thought had crossed his mind on more than one occasion—that he'd wondered what it would be like to hold and touch. He knew a little of it—a kiss here and there that had just kept going, and one particular night on the couch. They'd been watching a movie, and gotten…a little distracted. That was the first time he'd dared let his hands wander, and she hadn't protested.

He still didn't know how that movie ended…but all things considered, it didn't bother him. It truly was addictive, but that was as far as they'd gone. Sex wasn't a part of their relationship, and probably wouldn't be for a while. So Heiji kept his more adventurous thoughts to himself.

"Pfft," Adam rolled his eyes and shook his head, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You should. She's pretty hot. Doesn't know much—can be a lot of fun." He smirked, and it was borderline feral.

Enough was enough—he had let this conversation continue to try and see if there was anything about this guy that wasn't despicable, and he was coming up completely empty. But no one talked about Kazuha like that. Heiji's expression darkened. "I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to listen very, very carefully." He took a deep breath and reminded himself to keep his temper in check. "You are an asshole. You are one of the most god-awful people I have ever encountered in my life, and I catch murderers for a living."

Adam's eyes had gone huge again—suddenly, this little "guy talk" had pulled a complete one-eighty.

"By all rights," Heiji said evenly, "I should beat the hell out of you for what you did to Kazuha. She's my best friend and my girlfriend, and I love her dearly. Always have, as a friend and as a woman. And you hurt her. When she came back, she was in pieces. I helped put her back together. And now you show up again and drag up something that we both really wanted to stay buried in the past. So I should really be dragging your ass out to the parking lot and beating the shit out of you and leaving you there to bleed."

Adam took a step back.

"However," Heiji continued, "in a very strange, very awful way…I owe you. So I'm going to punch you once in the nose, and then I am going to close this door. And you are going to leave. You are going to go crawl back into whatever little slimehole you came out of, and you are never going to come back here again. If you ever show up on our doorstep again, I will call the police. And it bears mentioning that I have some connections at the police department. You will be in deep shit. Do I make myself clear?"

Adam swallowed hard and nodded.

"Good."

Heiji reached out, grabbed the front of Adam's shirt, and let him have it—right across the face. And he didn't pull the punch at all. The blow was strong enough to send The Guy flying backwards; he hit the opposite wall and slid down it to the floor, both hands clasped over his face.

True to his word, Heiji took only a second to admire his handiwork. Then he stepped back into the apartment and closed the door. He locked it, just for good measure. He waited about ten minutes, then opened the door a crack to see. And he was pleased to see that Adam had vanished. Still, he was a tiny bit concerned. So he did a quick walk around the building to make sure that he wasn't hanging around waiting for her. But he saw nothing—apparently this guy did have a brain, and had taken Heiji at his word.

He really did deserve a cookie.

Now satisfied, Heiji went back to the apartment and his book.

**_-o-_**

Kazuha came home about three hours later; the sky outside was starting to get dark. "Sorry I'm so late," she apologized as she slipped off her shoes. "Dad mentioned during lunch that the washing machine at home was dying, so I went with him to find a new one. And then we got stuck in traffic."

Heiji was sitting on the couch, watching TV; he turned to smile at her. "I was wondering where you were."

She dropped her purse on the table. "I called your cell phone, but you didn't answer. Guess you didn't see my message. Did you take a nap or something?"

"When did you call?" he frowned.

"Around two, I think."

That lined up pretty well with the only time when he would have been out of earshot for his cell phone. And he grinned, "Oh. No, I didn't take a nap—but I know why I didn't hear it ring. I was out of the apartment for about five minutes around that time."

"Oh?" Kazuha came to stand over him. "Where did you go?"

He decided to be honest—no reason to hide it from her. "Adam stopped by for a little chat, and I chased him off. I wanted to make sure he had actually left the building. So I walked around and checked."

Her eyes widened. "Heiji…what happened? What did you do?"

"He came over—was looking for you," he said calmly. "And he started asking questions. He seemed pretty surprised when he realized that I lived here." He chuckled, remembering the poleaxed look on That Guy's face. "Guy's a real ass, Kazuha."

"You don't have to tell me that," she replied coolly. "I learned that firsthand."

Heiji took her hand and tugged on it, pulling her down to sit sideways in his lap; she looped her arms around his neck and let her cheek rest against his temple. "Well, he asked a few very inappropriate questions. So I told him to get lost and never come back, and then I punched him. Once."

"Heiji!" Kazuha gasped, straightening up to look right at him. Still, what he could see of her face said that she was torn between being appalled…and being completely delighted. He couldn't blame her for that, though—needless violence was bad, but the guy really did have it coming. And she had to have wanted Adam to feel at least some degree of pain for his sins—which was reasonable. She was only human, after all.

"I only punched him once," he said defiantly. "I really should have beat the crap out of him. But…I didn't."

"Should I even ask why you didn't?" she asked. "Or is it just this newly developed self-control of yours?"

"That too," he grinned, sliding his arms loosely around her waist. "But…the reason I didn't kick his ass is because in a really weird, awful, twisted little way…I think I owe him one. So I let him walk away with just a black eye and a bloody nose. We're even."

Now she looked completely bewildered. "You owe him…Heiji, what in the world could you possibly owe him?"

Heiji smiled. "Why did you come back to Japan?"

Kazuha frowned. "Because I was lonely."

"What was the straw that broke the camel's back?"

"When he…oh…" she trailed off as comprehension dawned.

"Exactly," Heiji said. "He used you and he dumped you. That started the chain reaction that put you on my doorstep, and brought you home. So it's probably horrible to think like this, but…he's the reason that I can finally see you."

She recognized that line. He had said it once before after the incident in Kyoto with the Genzihotaru and the missing Buddha statue, but refused to explain what it meant. It wasn't until recently that he'd told her what exactly it meant: it was a reference to her, when he had seen her outside the temple at Sannouzi and, not recognizing her, fell hard. That line had almost become an inside joke of sorts between them—it was almost like a secret code-phrase, a way to say 'I love you.'

"…I never really thought about it like that," she admitted. "But you're right. In a really roundabout way…he's the reason we wound up together." She leaned her cheek against his hair. "So to say thank you for that…you let him keep his limbs?"

"And I didn't break any bones, and the only blood he lost was from his nose," Heiji said, almost proudly. Then he muttered, "…I really did let him off. Maybe I should have kicked him or something…"

Kazuha laughed. "No, no…you did just fine. So you're sure he won't come back?"

"Very sure," he replied. "I think I scared about ten years off his life."

"…part of me wishes I could have seen it, and part of me wishes I had been here to do it myself," she sighed.

"Aww, come on, Miss Aikido Champ," he teased. "I know you can defend yourself when push comes to shove. But let me be your knight in shining armor and protect you once in a while!"

She sat back. "Oh, all right. And here's my knight's reward." She tilted her head down and kissed him.

When she pulled back, Heiji opened his eyes grinned wickedly. "If I'm going to get rewards like that…got any other ex-boyfriends I can beat up?"

Kazuha gave him a Look and swatted him on the head. "Way to ruin the moment."

"I try."

* * *

**PS.** _Hehe…and so we finally meet The Guy. I decided I was going to make him as unlikeable as possible, just because assholes can be extremely fun characters to write dialogue for. And he was. Sad part is that I have actually met guys like this—a friend of mine was even engaged to one (she dumped his ass, thank God). So they DO exist. Which kind of sucks. So any guys out there, please—don't be an Adam. Or Kazuha and Heiji will each punch you in the face. And I might have to hate you, which would make a kitten sad._

_This message has been brought to you by the Please Don't Be An Asshat Foundation._

_I'm rather falling in love with my little mini-universe here. There are just so many possibilities for these two when they're living together! And for some reason, the ones about the apartment-verse tend to turn into small epics. Well, at least they do in my head O.O L'anyhoodle, I hope you enjoyed. Next one is the halfway point, NUMBAH FIFTY!! YAY!! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	50. Pandora's Box

**Title: **Pandora's Box  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito/Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#82—if  
**Word Count: **5383 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Aoko found something she was not meant to see…

* * *

One of the benefits of knowing your spouse since childhood is the fact that there aren't too many surprises. There are always adjustments, seeing those little quirks and habits that can't be noticed unless two people are actually living together. But generally speaking, if two people have known each other for that long and know each other well enough that they are willing to tie their lives together, chances are that they know a great deal about each other.

Aoko had no conscious secrets from her husband. She had even told Kaito as much—he knew her inside and out, and there was nothing that she could think of that she had knowingly kept from him. It was something she was very proud of and happy about, to have that kind of a relationship where she could be so open and share some of those harder things and know that it would be okay.

And to her knowledge, Kaito kept no major secrets from her. He had always been an open, friendly person, but she knew that there was a thin, invisible wall between him and most other people. She was one of the only people who got to step to the other side of that wall and see under the masks.

There was only one thing that she was aware of that he hadn't shown her: Kaito had a small box, like a shadow box. It wasn't anything fancy, made of dark wood with a small padlock on the front that he almost always kept locked. The box lived in one of his dresser drawers; he rarely ever took it out or drew any attention to it, but she was aware that it existed.

Kaito had never let her see what was inside that box.

"Kaito?" she gathered her nerve and approached him one morning while he was sitting at the kitchen table, reading his morning paper. Just like he did every morning.

"Hey!" he lowered his newspaper and reached up to draw her down for a kiss—just like he did every single morning. He was an affectionate husband. "What's on tap for today?"

"Oh, the usual," she waved it off. "Listen…I have a question."

"What?"

"…that little box you keep in your drawer," she said. "What's in it? Why won't you show it to me?" As she asked the question out loud, she suddenly realized how petty it probably sounded.

His grin faded a little bit before coming back as a slightly-sadder smile. "This is bother you, isn't it?

"Well…you know you can talk to me about anything, right?" she said, fiddling with the hem of her blouse.

"Of course I know," he said gently, then sighed. "What's inside that box…mementos. They're things that I don't really want to look at all the time. Some of them are very painful—the newspaper clippings from the stories about Dad's death are in there, I'll tell you that much. Not all of them are bad, though. I've got our wedding announcement in there, too. But even bad or painful memories have a place in a good life. So I don't want to forget any of them. That's why I keep them in there."

"Oh…I see," Aoko nodded. She didn't want to admit that it still bothered her—what he was saying made perfect sense, after all.

But just like always, he seemed to know exactly how she felt. He stood up and crossed the distance between them; he put his hands on her upper arms. "Aoko…if it makes you feel any better, I haven't even shown Mom what's in that box. I don't think she even really knows it exists."

Now that was a big deal—Kaito and his mother had always been very close. If he hadn't let her in on it, that meant it was something deeply personal. Somehow, that was comforting to Aoko—it wasn't just her. She smiled, a real smile this time, and nodded. "I understand. It's okay. You're entitled to that. I just…was hoping you knew you could talk to me about anything."

His smile was just as genuine. "Thank you," he said, pulling her closer and slipping his arms around her. "Someday, I'll show you. But not now." And he kissed her, a gesture she returned with interest.

That was when Aya walked into the room and was disgusted at the open display of affection by her parents. The loud of "EWW!!" did wonders for destroying the moment, and an amused Kaito chased their daughter of the room while Aoko laughed.

So she put the issue from her mind and went about her life. She was a loving and devoted wife to a world-class stage magician, and she was a doting and adoring mother to their adorable four-year-old daughter. It felt like she was really living so many childhood dreams—a home, a happy family. Life was wonderful.

_**-o-**_

One day, while Kaito was at his office and Aya-chan was at the playground with some friends, Aoko was busying herself with getting caught up on some things around the house. While she certainly wasn't a meek little housewife, she did pride herself on keeping a clean house. She had gotten a great deal done, and now was putting the laundry away.

She went into their master bedroom and first put her own clothing away in her dresser. Then she moved to Kaito's dresser and went to put his clothes away—and as she was closing the drawer, she noticed it.

The small padlock on Kaito's little box was not locked. It was hanging from the latch loop, but it was open.

Aoko lowered the shirts into the drawer and stared at the box for a long moment. She should lock it and go on her way. That was Kaito's, and he'd already told her why he kept it a secret. It was a perfectly logical reason, and it was his right to keep that little part of himself private. If she were to look now, it would be like betraying him.

But…though she hadn't thought about it too much since their talk about it, now that she was confronted with it she realized just how curious she was. Whatever was in there couldn't be anything truly groundbreaking, could it? She had gotten him to tell her that one of the things he kept in there were the newspaper clippings detailing his father's death. If it was just that kind of thing…one little peek couldn't really hurt, could it?

Kaito would never even know.

Curiosity overrode guilt. Aoko reached over, slipped the padlock from the latch, and hesitated only another moment before she lifted the lid. Taking a deep breath, she peered inside to see what her husband kept amidst his most private memories.

On top were a few newspaper clippings of various things. She looked through them, noting Aya's birth announcement. There was something bulky underneath them, and she moved them aside to see what it was.

Her heart stopped.

With trembling fingers, she withdrew the item—a small round piece of thin glass encircled by metal, with a four leaf clover emblem on a triangle-shaped charm hanging at the end of a chain.

She had seen this monocle a thousand times before. It was the symbol of her father's nemesis, the man she hated most. A man who had retired from his flamboyantly illegal career years back. No one had seen hide or hair of Kaitou Kid since then. The white-clad thief had simply vanished into the night, a phantom. Even at the end of his career, he had made himself into the stuff of legends.

At a loss for what to do, Aoko put the monocle back. She tried to put things back in the box as she'd found them and closed the lid, rehooking the padlock through the latch and locking it. She shoved the clean laundry into the drawer and slammed it shut before she bolted from the room.

_**-o-**_

Aoko didn't know what to do.

She had betrayed Kaito and looked through his private things, the one thing he had ever kept from her. And because of that, she had found something she had never dreamed she would find. If it meant what she thought it meant…oh, who was she kidding? She couldn't think of another really plausible explanation for finding Kaitou Kid's monocle in Kaito's bedroom dresser. No matter how big of a Kid fan he had been…Kid had retired years ago, not long before she and Kaito had started seriously dating.

…somehow, realizing that timing didn't make her feel any better. It was no secret that she despised Kaitou Kid. When the thief had retired, she had been torn between anger that he still walked free…and relief that maybe now she could have her father and best friend back, that they would stop chasing shadows. But before he had vanished, Kid had helped lead police to arrest several men responsible for numerous crimes, including firing on the Taskforce during heists. Those captures had led law enforcement to a massive crime syndicate. It had been nearly a decade, and sometimes it felt like her father was still working on that case.

A week after Kid quit, Kaito had nonchalantly suggested that they catch a movie. And when he'd walked her to her door, he'd left her with a kiss on the cheek. That had been the start of their romantic relationship, leading up to a proposal and a marriage two years later.

She had betrayed Kaito by looking through his things.

But had he betrayed her first?

The worst part was that she couldn't ask him. Even if she hadn't found this out by deceitful means, how would she even bring it up? What was she supposed to say? "Hey, were you ever going to tell me you were Kaitou Kid?" That would go over really well.

And she didn't have his favorite mask—Poker Face, he called it. If he didn't want anyone to know what he was thinking or feeling, his feelings would be as visible as oxygen. He didn't hide behind that very much with her, and almost never with Aya…

Aya…

Her thoughts derailed as she realized the one piece of the puzzle she had somehow forgotten. What was this going to do to Aya-chan? This could tear the family apart—not just them and their daughter, but her father, his mother, everyone.

Kaito would be home soon. And she didn't know if she could manage any sort of charade—she didn't even know if she wanted to try and fool him, something she had never been very good at doing.

Still, when the door opened and Aya came toddling in, wanting a snack and bubbling about all the fun things that had happened at the playground, she put her best smile on her face and tried not to think about what would happen later tonight, when Kaito came home.

_**-o-**_

"What's bothering you?"

Aoko jumped a mile and whipped around to face her husband. She had been standing in their bedroom, trying to gather her thoughts and catch her breath after dinner—keeping herself together through the meal had been a real chore. He had come up behind her and was now leaning in the doorway, watching her with a raised eyebrow.

As before, she should have known that she couldn't hide anything from him. He just knew her too well. But more and more, Aoko was wondering if anything of what she was seeing was real. She really didn't know if she knew him at all anymore, and that realization hurt. "Nothing's bothering me," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Well…if you say so," he said amiably, walking into the room.

"So what if something was bothering me?" she said. She kept herself from looking at him by stooping to fiddle with the comforter on the bed. "Can't I have a secret or two myself?" That was the wrong thing to say, and she knew it. But she couldn't keep her mouth shut about this. She had to know.

"I never said you couldn't," he replied; there was an underlying current in his voice that sounded a bit like suspicion. "You're perfectly entitled to keep things from me, Aoko. Everyone has things like that."

"Oh?" she said archly. "Do you?"

"…Aoko, what's going on?" he said.

"Why don't you tell me?"

"I would if I had any idea what you're talking about."

She straightened. She knew she should look him in the eye, but somehow she just couldn't. What she had done was wrong, and there was no denying that. "…what's in the box, Kaito?"

"I thought we already—"

"What's in the box?"

He was silent for a moment. Then, very quietly, he said, "You already know, don't you?"

Aoko didn't answer.

"How did you—"

"The lock was open," she replied, barely a whisper. She still wasn't looking at him; behind her, she heard him curse very softly under his breath. "Were you ever going to say anything, Kaito?"

"Someday," he said.

"You didn't think it was important before we got married?" she said; her temper was starting to rise. Anger was good. Anger was a nice familiar emotion, and familiarity was something she needed to cling to now when everything seemed to have gone completely haywire. So she let herself get angry. "It's not something I should have known?"

"This is why I didn't want to tell you."

"Why? Because I'd get angry?" she demanded. "Because I would get upset that you lied to me?"

"Aoko, let me explain—" There was a harder tone in his voice now.

"That you lied to me? What was I to you—an insider on the police force? You must have thought it was hilarious that my dad kept asking for your opinion on their security systems, knowing you were going to come back and steal them later?" By now she was shouting. "Were you just using me?"

"Dammit, Aoko, you know that's not true!" That seemed to strike a nerve, and his reaction was angry.

"How do I know?" she screamed. "How can I ever trust anything you say again?"

"That was almost ten years ago—it's in the past!" he shouted back. "It's the only thing I've ever hidden from you! I didn't want to tell you because I knew it would hurt you!"

"Well, aren't you noble?" she spat the words out. By now, the volume of this fight had gotten to the point where the neighbors were probably wondering what was going on. They were screaming at each other at the top of their lungs.

"At least hear me out—there's a reason why I—"

"What reason could you possibly have?" she demanded. "You're a liar…all this time I've trusted you with everything and you just kept lying. You used my father and you used me to get what you wanted. Did I ever matter to you? Or was I just your ticket to get what you wanted?"

"You KNOW how I feel about you!" he shouted, fury flashing across his eyes.

"I hate you!" The words popped out before she could stop them.

The damage was done, though. He looked stricken. "You don't—"

"Maybe I do!"

Kaito opened his mouth to respond…and his expression changed. "Wait. Do you hear that?" He leaned to one side, as though trying to listen to something beyond the door.

"Kaito, you aren't—"

"Shh…" he hushed her again. This time they both fell silent, and Aoko begrudgingly tried to listen for whatever it was he claimed to have heard. At first she heard nothing.

Then she heard the faint sound of crying.

She and Kaito looked at each other, eyes widen in realization. "Aya!"

As one person, they tore out of their room. Kaito managed to get ahead of her and made it to their daughter's bedroom first. He immediately rushed back out, nearly crashing into Aoko in the process. "She's not in here."

That was all the encouragement Aoko needed, and she turned and led the chase downstairs. They separated and tore through the house, searching desperately for their daughter. Both were calling out to her.

Aoko frantically tore into the rec room. "Aya-chan? Aya, where are you?!" She'd looked everywhere and Kaito had looked everywhere—oh god, where was their daughter…

"Mommy…"

She whirled around. Aya was standing in the hallway by the stairs in her pajamas, her stuffed bunny Hikaru clutched tightly in her arms. Her little face was bright red; she was sobbing.

"Kaito! She's here!" Aoko called out as she dove towards her daughter, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around the little girl. "Aya, sweetie, what's wrong? What happened? Are you all right?" In the time it took her to get that much out, Kaito was beside them. She drew back a little to look at Aya, not letting go of her entirely. "What happened?"

Aya's little face twisted, and she sobbed out, "…Mommy and Daddy don't love each other anymore."

If there was one thing that could stop them both dead in their tracks, that was it. Husband and wife froze in shock. They had always had a very happy marriage aided by love, a great deal of mutual respect, and a willingness to compromise. While cheerful bickering had always been a part of their relationship, serious arguments were usually few and far-between, and the number of full-blown fights they'd had in almost eight years of marriage could be counted on one hand.

"…what?" Kaito managed. For once, he seemed truly stunned.

"You were fighting and it was loud and scary…" Aya hiccupped. "Don't fight…don't hate each other…"

"Oh, sweetie…" At a loss, Aoko swept her daughter up into a tight hug; she could feel her own eyes starting to burn. "It's okay…it's okay…sometimes parents fight, it's okay…" As she said it, she didn't know if it was a lie or not. After all, she was the one who had used the word 'hate.'

The family sat there on the floor for a long time, waiting until Aya's tears had subsided. When she seemed to have calmed down somewhat, Kaito stepped in. He gathered her into his arms, picking her up, and headed towards the stairs; Aoko followed, keeping one of Aya's hands in her own over his shoulder. They made the journey to Aya's bedroom. Aoko waited by the door and watched while Kaito tucked Aya (and Hikaru) into bed with whispered reassurances. She backed out into the hallway as he exited, closing the door behind him.

"Aoko—" he started to say something, but she was already walking down the hallway towards their bedroom. He watched as she disappeared into the room; the light shut off. Slowly, he followed her, stopping in the doorway. She was getting changed for bed.

Kaito stood and watched; he knew every inch of her, every line and every curve, and had always had a great appreciation for the beauty of her body. Each garment she shed revealed more skin, pale and luminous in the darkness. He loved her—he always had—not just for her body, but for her mind, her strength, her spirit…she had always been different from other girls, and it captivated him.

And it was at moments like this that it was so strong it hurt.

She didn't seem to be paying any attention to him as she finished changing and pulled on her own pajamas. Her clothes from that day ended up forgotten in a small pile on the floor. She bent slightly to turn down the bed, and then straightened, standing beside the bed with her arms wrapped around her waist.

He stepped into the room and closed the door. "Aoko…was Aya right?"

"What?"

He asked the question, though he was afraid to know the answer. "Does Mommy not love Daddy anymore?

He saw Aoko tense at the question. She was quiet, seeming to think about it, still keeping her back to him. After a long moment, she whispered, "…if I said no, what would you do?"

Kaito felt something inside him break at the idea, but swallowed it. "I'll leave tomorrow. I'll pack up and move. If you want a divorce…that's your right. At this point, I don't know if I have any right to argue. But…I'll make sure you're taken care of. All I ask…" now his voice cracked, and he took a deep breath to steady himself, "…all I ask is that you let me see Aya. You don't have to see me if you don't want to, but please…don't keep her from me."

Now she turned to look at him. "You'd just go? If I told you I wanted you to?"

"Yes."

Aoko stared at him through the darkness, like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Then she looked down at the ground. "Even if I did want you to go…I'd never keep Aya from you. And…I don't hate you. I'm sorry I said that—I didn't mean it." She meant each of those statements sincerely.

"Do you want me to go?"

"…no. I don't," Aoko sighed, tightening her arms around herself. "I don't want you to…"

This was different from their earlier fight. Then there had been anger and defensiveness. Now there was only weariness and hurt feelings and uncertainty of what to do next or where to go from here. It was the point of no return. Whatever was said tonight could determine everything.

"Why, Kaito?" she asked. "Why?"

"My father was murdered. I wanted to find the ones who did it," he said bluntly.

That shocked her. "What? Kaito, your father died in an accident!"

"It wasn't an accident. Someone tampered with some of his equipment, and so when he got to that point during his magic show…" he trailed off. She knew what had happened; there was no need to go into detail on that particular point.

"Oh my god…"

"When I learned the truth, I was seventeen. And…well, you can probably figure out the rest," he said. "The rest, as they say, is history. One of the men your father arrested at Kid's last heist was Dad's killer. That was the end of the road for Kaitou Kid.

Aoko was completely as a loss. Hearing the story behind it changed things. This wasn't just a lark. Kaito hadn't just been messing with her all this time. He had a genuine reason for what he was doing. But was it enough to override her hatred for his former alter ego? Did it justify the fact that he'd lied to her for all this time, even after asking her to marry him and fathering her daughter?

Taking a risk, Kaito started walking towards her. "Aoko…there's no point in hiding it anymore. You know the truth. This is who I was. It's a part of the person I am now, and I can't change that—I don't want to change that. There was something I needed to do…and I did it, and then I left it behind."

"Why did you—"

"Because," he reached out and very carefully touched her hair, threading a lock of her brown mane between his fingers "once my promise to my father was fulfilled, I was free to do something for myself—something that I desperately wanted." There was no mistaking what he meant.

She didn't shy away or brush him aside, but she did look down and to the side so as not to meet his gaze. "So why didn't you mention this before we were married?"

"Because I was afraid."

That shocked her. "What?"

"Aoko, I love you. Have for a long time. And I didn't know if you could accept that part of me," he said, and she had no doubts that he was telling her the truth. "You know every other part of me—the magician, the prankster, the loner…you've accepted all of me. The idea of losing you terrified me."

"I don't know…I can't think," she shook her head, putting her head in her hands; she was reeling. "I'm too freaked out to think this through." She gave herself a shake, then straightened up and looked right at him. "I'm going to bed. I'm going to sleep on this, and we'll talk in the morning. I'll…make a decision then." Suddenly she was very, very tired. All she wanted to do was sleep.

"That makes sense," Kaito nodded. He watched as she crawled into bed, and a moment later he ventured the question, "Do you want me to go somewhere else? I can go downstairs…"

Aoko was quiet before replying, "No, no…come to bed. It's okay."

She lay in bed, observing quietly as he changed for bed. It didn't take him long. He was still so handsome, and there was no denying that she was still very attracted to him. But right now there was no arousal, no desire. Just a sad sort of love.

In mere minutes he was crawling into bed beside her. It was like there was an invisible line between them: he stay on his side of the bed, and she stayed on hers. Neither dared to cross that barrier, him for fear that he might do even further damage, and her for fear that she might break. And while they were both exhausted, neither was truly ready to sleep.

After a time had passed, Kaito spoke. "Aoko…"

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember the first night we ever spent together?"

To his surprise, she chuckled. "How could I forget? It was the night you proposed. I was so surprised that you went for something so cliché—having the restaurant stick the ring in the dessert. I'd expected something a little more out there. How funny that you surprise me by doing something predictable."

"And then you scooped it up and popped it in your mouth and looked all confused," he smiled. "And then the waiter bumped your chair and you accidentally tried to swallow it. And we had to do the Heimlich."

"The ring went flying and wound up in the water glass of the rich-looking guy at the next table," she winced at the memory. "Good thing he had a sense of humor—he brought the glass over and told me I seemed to have lost something. The entire place cheered when I said yes, though." She sighed. "I was so happy…when you brought me home that night, I remember kissing you at my door…"

"And the next thing you knew, we were in your bedroom, right?" he finished. "Same. I remember that I couldn't quite figure out the clasp on your skirt…how awkward was I? Really?"

"No more awkward than I was—neither of us knew what we were doing," she said. "I was going with an approach of 'what happens if I put my hand here' just because I didn't know what would work…"

"You've always been amazing," he said softly. "And then when we got married…"

"We got back to the hotel for the wedding night and crashed," she finished the thought. "Changed into pajamas, crawled into bed, and fell asleep. I think I kissed you goodnight before I started snoring."

"You did," he nodded.

"…do you remember our first kiss?" Aoko asked.

"Our first real kiss, you mean? Because I kissed you on the cheek after our first date," Kaito said. "But our first real kiss was at the amusement park. We were in the middle of that water fountain, where you could see the rainbows…"

"And then you kissed me," she finished, blushing a little as she remembered watching the colors arch in the sunlit spray…and then fingers on her cheek turning her head and the gentle press of lips against hers. Reliving that memory in her mind took her back to that day, and it made her feel like the naïve girl she had once been. "That was our…third date? No, it was our fourth."

"Fourth," he nodded. "Took me that long to work up the nerve."

Aoko sighed…and let her fingers find his on top of the comforter. "It was perfect."

"…Aoko?" Kaito ventured in the most timid voice she'd ever heard from him. "You know…you were never just an insider. You're a lot more to me than I can even put into words—you and Aya both."

"I know. I didn't mean what I said. I just…god, Kaito, I'm angry. And I'm hurt."

"I married you because I love you. Not because I thought it would give me an 'in.' Not because I wanted to use you for anything. Not because of any guilt. But because I wanted us to stay together…because I fell for you long before I took up my father's mantle," he gave her fingers a squeeze. "I gave up being Kid so I could be free to be with you. And I will never regret marrying you, or having Aya. These have been the happiest years of my life."

There were a couple of minutes where neither of them spoke.

Then Aoko broke the silence. "Kaito?"

"Yes?"

"…I'm sorry I looked."

"I'm sorry I lied to you," he said, then chuckled. "Ironic…Kaitou Kid was searching for a gem called Pandora, and you found me out by opening Pandora's box, as it were."

"Do you think Aya's okay?" she whispered.

"She's always been resilient. She'll be fine."

He heard a sniffle in the darkness. "God…what did I do to my baby?" Aoko whispered. Her voice broke on the last word, and he heard the sound of soft weeping beside him; she was crying.

"Aoko?" he put a hand on her shoulder, concerned.

She rolled over and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just…hold me?"

"As often as you'll let me," he replied. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and waist, pressing her against him. Somehow, he sensed that tonight was for them. Tomorrow could bring anything—she could decide it was too much of a betrayal and tell him to leave. But for right now, for this moment…it was just them, just as they'd always been.

It didn't take long for her tears to subside, but she did not pull away from his embrace. Instead they just lay there quietly in each other's arms. They were both just beginning to doze off when there was a knock on the door. There was only one possible source of the sound, and Kaito quickly disentangled himself from Aoko's arms to go answer it.

Aya-chan was standing outside the door, clad in her favorite blue and yellow pajamas, with Hikaru the Bunny clutched in her arms. Her hair was mussed, and she was looking up at her father with wide eyes. "Daddy, I can't sleep…" she rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand.

He smiled knowingly and stooped to her eye-level. "You're still scared, aren't you?" When she nodded, he held out his arms. "C'mere." She went willing to him, and he gathered her into his arms. "You want to stay in here tonight?" She nodded against his shoulder, and that was all the answer that was necessary.

Aoko was sitting up in bed, smiling as they approached. She lifted the blankets as Kaito set Aya down on the mattress, and the little girl immediately clambered towards her mother. "It's okay, sweetie," she said soothingly. "You don't have to be scared."

"Are you still angry?" Aya asked.

"…no," Aoko said, feeling herself smile. "Sometimes people fight. But it doesn't mean that they don't care about each other." She looked up at Kaito, who was still standing beside the bed. He was watching them both with a smile of his own; there was no mistaking the affection in his eyes.

"I think it's bedtime," he said gently, taking his place in the bed and pulling the blankets up around his two girls. Aya nodded, seemingly appeased by her mother's words, snuggled down between her parents. She did wrinkle her nose, though, when Kaito pressed a kiss to Aoko's forehead before laying down.

So many things could come with the dawn. But for right now, at least, they were still a family.

* * *

**PS.** _Hmm…waff._ _Fluffy waff. It eats at meeeeeeeeee!! And so with this, we have reached the halfway point of the fanfic100 challenge. Fifty down, and fifty to go! YAAAAAY:D And I still haven't used any of my five Writer's Choice themes…huh. Should do that. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed the fluff._

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	51. The Stockings Were Hung

**Title: **The Stockings Were Hung  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito, Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#92—Christmas  
**Word Count: **445 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She was getting ready for Santa to come. A Kaito ficlet.

* * *

For a good many children, Christmas is one of the happiest times of the year. There are dreams of presents, of songs and cookies, of Santa Claus coming to bring good little boys and girls oodles of presents. Because of Kaito's career as a superstar magician, life was very comfortable at the Kuroba household, and so the holiday was shaping up to be a wonderful one.

At four years of age, Aya-chan was finally old enough to really start appreciating the story of Santa and the holiday decorations and festivities they engaged in. She was helping her parents as much as she could; Kaito's travels around the world had given him a great appreciation for western traditions, and the little girl took great delight in putting pretty ornaments and sparkly things on a tree—inside the house, she excitedly told her mother! Trees weren't supposed to be inside the house! That only happened at Christmas!

It was four days before Christmas (which was officially her favorite holiday), and Kaito was humming "Jingle Bells" under his breath while he hung a sprig of mistletoe in the arched doorway that led from the hallway into the kitchen. He had every intention of seeing exactly how many times he could catch Aoko under that happy little sprig of greenery before December twenty-sixth.

He heard footsteps padding down the hallway. They were soft, light, and quick, which pinpointed the culprit. He glanced down over his shoulder from his vantage point on the stepstool and grinned. "Hey, munchkin."

Aya-chan toddled past him. "Hi, Daddy!"

Kaito turned back to what he was doing for a moment, then did a full-blown double take. "Aya-chan?"

"Yes, Daddy?" she called back cheerily.

He stared at the door she had disappeared through for a moment. He wasn't quite sure if he had seen what he thought he had seen, and so he wanted to make sure. "Sweetie, what are you doing?"

"Hangin' my stocking!" she called back.

Kaito stood stone-still for a moment, then hopped off the stool, moved down the hall, and got her before she could actually nail the stocking to the wall. Aya, predictably, protested loudly, which turned into a small scream of displeasure as he pulled her treasured Christmas stocking from her hands.

By this time, Aoko had heard her daughter's cry and had come to see what was going on. "Kaito?"

"Here," he handed her Aya's stocking before setting Aya down; she drew back and pouted at him. "Aya-chan, sweetie, where did you find that stocking?"

She crossed her arms. "Mommy's laundry basket."

Aoko looked at her daughter, then down at the crumpled pantyhose in her hands…and started to laugh.

* * *

**PS.** _Yes, I know it's past Christmas. But hey, it's one of the themes. Gotta use it sometime! Just a random little laugh with Aya being adorable. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	52. Claimed

**Title: **Claimed  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito/Shinichi (General series)  
**Prompt: **#33—too much  
**Word Count: **741 words (including omake)  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Kaitou Kid has a very special present for Shinichi. Kaito/Shinichi

* * *

Kaitou Kid heists were never boring. Granted, some tended to burn themselves into the brain a bit more permanently than others for various reasons (Nakamori-keibu still twitched violently at any mention of the word 'toothpaste'), but they were all highly eventful.

Tonight's was no exception. Kid had already secured the diamond that was his announced target for the evening, and now was engaging in his favored secondary activity of taunting the police. Below, the Taskforce was trying to reorder themselves after discovering exactly what kind of trick Kid could pull with shaving cream, popsicle sticks, and a very, very large toilet plunger.

…no, the Taskforce didn't get it either. And they were there when it happened.

The only ones who had managed to escape the white frothy deluge were a few officers, Nakamori-keibu, and Kudo Shinichi, who happened to be on the scene for this particular heist.

Meanwhile, Kaitou Kid had vaulted himself onto a retaining wall, perhaps ten meters tall; from there, he waved to his ever-present, ever-adoring audience. "And now, a present for a member of my most loyal, most captive audience!" the thief cheered, and the crowd of fans went ballistic. The assembled police and detectives went slightly less ballistic, especially considering that they were fairly certain they were the ones he was talking about, and began hollering orders to each other.

Then, sure enough, there was an enormous puff of smoke right in the middle of the law enforcement ranks.

For a long moment everyone coughed and fanned, trying to usher the smoke away. And slowly, it dissipated, allowing them to see that Kaitou Kid had, in fact, bestowed a gift upon one of their own. In fact, he had poofed it right onto the recipient.

Kudo Shinichi had appeared at the heist wearing a blue suit and white button-up shirt. He was now wearing jeans and a bright pink T-shirt. A VERY bright pink T-shirt. It almost seemed to glow of its own volition amidst the police spotlights. On that T-shirt were emblazoned the words _PROPERTY OF KAITOU KID _in letters large enough to be read at one hundred meters.

Needless to say, the Detective of the East did NOT look amused.

Cackling, Kaitou Kid bowed…and vanished in another poof of smoke, taking the enormous diamond with him. He left behind a horde of screaming fans, a legion of frantic police officers, and a very, VERY annoyed detective…

_**-o-**_

"Welcome home!" Kaito called cheerily as Shinichi trudged inside. The magician was stretched out on the couch with a book in his hands; he didn't look away from it at the sound of the door opening and closing, or as Shinichi leaned over the back of the furniture.

"Kaito…"

At the sound of his own name, he finally turned his gaze from the book…and chuckled. "Nice shirt."

"Don't you think you might have gone a little overboard with this one?" Shinichi asked dryly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kaito said smoothly, sitting up. "Besides, I rather take offense. Kaitou Kid putting the moves on my boyfriend, trying to claim what's mine…how dare he!"

"I can't believe you—wait. Boyfriend?" Shinichi raised an eyebrow.

"Yup!"

"I thought we were roommates."

"Roommates who make out."

"…don't I get a say in this?"

"Nope!" Kaito was beaming.

"…I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm going to bed. And no," Shinichi saw Kaito open his mouth, and cut him off before the question could even be asked, "you cannot join me for either. End of discussion."

"So cruel…"

Shinichi ignored him and started across the room, already peeling off the garish pink T-shirt.

"Take it off!"

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

**PS.** _This was written for __**Shimegami**__, who is a person of awesome and win. She wanted Kaito/Shinichi, and so I hope I delivered well enough. I don't write shounen ai very often, in case ya hadn't noticed. Anyway, thanks for reading, all! Much love!_

**OMAKE**

Still muttering about idiotic thieves, Shinichi wandered into his room. He tossed Kid's gift off to the side as he entered; it landed in a crumpled heap, and he really didn't care. Let it sit there forever for all he cared.

But he really felt his teeth start to grind when he looked down on his bed and found his blue suit and white shirt (the clothes he'd worn to the heist that night) folded neatly and sitting in a pile on top of the comforter.

It also didn't help his mood that the target of that night's heist was sitting on top of the shirt. It sparkled at him.

Shinichi stared at the jewel for a moment, then gave up and went to take a shower.


	53. Stoic

**Title: **Stoic  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heizo, Ootaki, Toyama (General series)  
**Prompt: **#7—days  
**Word Count: **386 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Hattori Heizo isn't flustered by ANYTHING.

* * *

The whole thing started as a regular homicide investigation.

The police arrived and began with their procedures, interviewing witnesses and gathering evidence. Hattori Heizo, the Chief of the Osaka prefecture, arrived on the scene to observing his officers and handle several witness interviews. Hattori was known to be a tough, stern man who couldn't be ruffled by much of anything.

However, today something was a little bit off about him.

Ootaki finally worked up the nerve to ask. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"…we're at a murder scene."

"Yes."

"Interviewing witnesses."

"Yes."

"Gathering evidence."

"I'm aware."

"…you have a small child on your shoulders."

"Yes."

"She's braiding your hair."

"And?"

"…just wondering."

Heizo turned back to the witnesses, leaving Ootaki to stare in bewilderment as a small girl, about three years old, hummed "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" under her breath and proceeded to fasten a bright blue clip in the Chief's hair. Hattori Heizo was definitely the only man in the world who could have that many plastic barrettes in his hair and still look fierce, stoic, and dignified.

The little girl looked down at Ootaki and waved as she smiled a very broad smile that, when coupled with her bright green eyes, gave a definite clue as to her parentage. "Hi!"

He smiled back—he liked kids. "Hello."

She grinned. "Mommy and Daddy are on a trip for Daddy's work, and Grandma's tummy hurts. So I get to spend the day with Grandpa!" She wrapped her arms around Heizo's head as she said that. The Chief didn't miss a beat in his questioning, though there was no way he could have missed the fact that his forehead was being hugged.

"Yukari-chan, what are you doing?"

The little girl turned, and her expression brightened even further. "Grandpa!" She half-jumped, half-fell off Heizo's shoulders, right into Toyama's waiting arms, where she threw her own arms around his neck for a hug. "I get to spend today with Grandpa!"

"Oh, I see," he said. "What are you and Grandpa Heizo doing today?"

"We're going to a movie so Grandma can sleep," Yukari said, suddenly very solemn. "Her tummy hurts."

Heizo, having just finished speaking with an officer, turned and elaborated. "The flu."

Toyama snickered. "Yukari-chan has you wrapped around her little finger, doesn't she?"

Heizo, stoic as ever, did not reply.

* * *

**PS.** _This plotless fic spawned from a chat I had with __**Jeva**__. We're pretty sure Heizo is the only person in the world who could have a grandkid hanging off his leg or shoulders and still be totally dignified. We're also pretty sure that he's a closet softie, that his grandkids have him wrapped around their little fingers, and that__**Toyama**__ would be a lot of fun to hang with at parties._

_Plus, I want to write about as many different characters and pairings as I can in this challenge, and there are very few that I haven't touched yet. Let's check another couple off the list, yes? Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	54. Messing Up

**Title: **Messing Up  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi, Heiji (General series)  
**Prompt: **#83—and  
**Word Count: **422 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Heiji has a random question for Shinichi. Spoiler for Shinichi's First Case.

* * *

"Ne, Kudo…"

Shinichi looked up from his novel. "What?"

"I have a question."

"What?"

Heiji leaned back and put his hands behind his head, linking his fingers together. "What's the weirdest murder weapon you've ever come across?"

Shinichi paused to think it over for a moment, then replied, "A bra."

"…a bra."

"A bra. And it wasn't a case of strangulation."

"Explain."

"First case I ever solved for the police, actually. You can ask Megure about it, I'm sure he remembers," Shinichi chuckled. "I think he was about ready to throw me screaming from the airplane. But anyway, this woman took the underwire out of her bra, sharpened one end of it, and used it to stab a guy in the neck."

"How in the hell did you figure that out?" Heiji was obviously impressed.

"She stuck the wire back inside her bra to hide it," the Tokyo detective explained. "And the sharp end started poking her. She started moving her arm very strangely, and so I took a guess. Turned out I was right."

"…how did you know there was wire in her bra?"

Silence.

"You had to ask, didn't you?"

"…yes, Hattori. I had to ask."

"Bet Neechan loved that question."

"Surprisingly, she didn't slap me," Shinichi admitted, a slight red color coming into his cheeks.

Heiji was still grinning like an idiot. "Have you ever missed on a case?"

"You mean have I ever not gotten the right answer?" Shinichi asked in reply.

"Yeah."

"As a matter of fact," Shinichi smiled wryly, "I have."

Heiji arched an eyebrow. "You? Mess up? Somehow, that's hard to believe."

"Yet you were unsure enough to ask," Shinichi pointed out. "I'm not perfect, Hattori. I make mistakes."

"Like chasing mysterious guys in black to isolated places outside amusement parks?" Heiji teased.

"Perfect example," Shinichi deadpanned, turning his attention back to his book.

"Now I'm curious," Heiji pressed. "How often do you mess up?"

Shinichi sat still for a moment, then turned an amused look towards his fellow detective. "You know, there is one sure-fire way to ensure that I will mess up a case. Thus far, it's been nearly one hundred percent effective."

There was no mistaking that Heiji was intrigued. "And what would that method be?"

"You really want to know?" Shinichi asked.

"Yeah. I do."

Shinichi rolled his eyes good-naturedly and turned back to the Sherlock Holmes novel in his lap. "Put my father within a hundred meters of me on any side. Guaranteed, I will screw the case up sideways."

* * *

**PS.** _Two random scenes I had came together to form this dialogue-heavy little story. The reference to Shinichi's first case comes from manga files 204 to 207 in volume twenty-one. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	55. White Christmas

**Title: **White Christmas  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito/Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#67—snow  
**Word Count: **530 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **How in the world did he give her a present like this? Kaito/Aoko

* * *

Aoko's dejected sigh didn't miss Kaito's attention—granted, very little got past Kaito—and he looked up from the deck of cards in his hands. "What's up?"

She was gazing out the window, her chin resting in her palms, elbows on the windowsill. "There's no snow," she murmured; she sounded rather sad about that.

Kaito moved to join her in looking out the window. The landscape beyond the glass was brown, green, and gray—utterly drab. "You're right," he agreed, though it was fairly obvious. "What's your point?"

"Tomorrow's Christmas," Aoko said. "There should be snow on Christmas." Her expression was forlorn, like a child who has lost a favorite toy. "It's not right if there's no snow." It was a well-known fact that Aoko was very partial to having a blanket of white on the ground come December twenty-fifth.

Kaito said nothing. But he began to think…

_**-o-**_

When Aoko woke up the next morning, she rubbed at her eyes for a moment before she realized that it was Christmas, and thus snapped awake. She threw off the blankets and headed for her bedroom door, not bothering to change out of her pajamas or grab a robe. This was a holiday meant to be spent in comfort.

She skipped down to the living room, feeling a great childish wonder at the sight of the presents there. Her father was nowhere to be found, so she assumed that he was still asleep. So she would just have to wait.

Humming to herself, she made her way to the kitchen to make herself a hot drink. A few minutes later, steaming mug of tea in hand, she wandered back out to the living room…

But paused when she noticed that the world beyond the window seemed unusually bright. She took a sip and leaned over to peer outside—and her eyes widened. Abandoning her tea on the end table, she rushed to the front door. She flung it open and took a step out onto her front stoop.

Snow.

There was snow everywhere. The yard and house were covered in a thick white blanket of it.

Aoko felt her face light up in delight…only to fall to confusion when she noticed that people were standing on the sidewalk, staring at her home. Even more perplexing was the fact that the houses across the street had green-brown lawns—no snow at all.

A quick look up and down the street proved that her house was the only one on the block with snow.

…well, that would certainly explain the gawkers.

Stooping, Aoko gathered some of the white stuff into her hands. It was cold, wet, and undeniably real.

Real snow. Only on her house. But how had it—

For some reason, Kaito's face flashed into her mind, accompanied by the recollection of their conversation from the previous day, in which she had lamented not having snow for Christmas. And somehow, she knew.

Aoko leaned against the doorframe and wrapped her arms around herself as she looked at the lovely scene before her. And she wondered how in the world Kaito had managed to present her with the gift of a white Christmas.

* * *

**PS.** _This notion appeared as a sentence in my 1sentence set for Kaito and Aoko, and the mental image was so sweet that I had to expand it. I hope you liked the random cuteness. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	56. L'un et l'autre

**Title: **L'un et l'autre  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaitou Kid, Nakamori (General series)  
**Prompt: **#44—circle  
**Word Count: **259 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **A meeting between thief and Inspector is interrupted by a phone call.

* * *

It was another busy heist night for the Kaitou Kid Taskforce, under the direction of their volatile leader. Nakamori-keibu was in particularly fine (swearing) form, particularly when the rest of his men got caught in Kid's trap, leaving only him to face their most worthy of adversaries.

"Excellent job tonight!" the thief said approvingly, his applause muffled by his gloves. His eyes sparkled with unmuted glee, one of them darkened behind the ring of glass that was his trademark monocle.

Try as he might, Nakamori couldn't quite keep himself from muttering something decidedly unprintable in response.

Kid looked like he was going to respond when a digital song interrupted them—a cell phone ring.

"Mine!" Kid cheered, fishing into his pocket and withdrawing the source of the ring. He paused to glance at the caller ID screen, and a wide smile broke on his face. He flipped it open and put it to his ear. "Ta voix est la chanson des anges!"

Nakamori stared blankly as Kid began carrying on a conversation with someone…in what appeared to be fairly fluent French. After about thirty seconds of this, he could no longer hold in his curiosity, and he spoke up. "Who the hell are you taking to?"

The white-clad thief turned away from his phone for a moment. "Chat Noir."

"…the French cat burglar?"

"The one and only," he nodded before returning to his conversation.

It took him a second to process this and all the implications thereof. Then Nakamori-keibu dropped his face into his hands. "Oh dear God…he's NETWORKING."

* * *

**PS.** _The greeting Kid uses when he answers the phone is actually a pick-up line, translating to "Your voice is the song of angels!" __The title means "The one and the other." __Much love to __**Jeva**__ for helping me out with that. I don't speak the language xD __In other words, if it's wrong, BLAME HER. Just to clarify, __Chat Noir__ is a French burglar who__ appeared in one of the Kid files, the Goldeneye case._

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	57. What Really Happened

**Title: **The Apartment: What Really Happened  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#89—work  
**Word Count: **1870 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Heiji finally asks for the whole story. And Kazuha tells him…

* * *

Something had been bothering Heiji for a while now. It was one of those things that, in his mind, fell squarely into the gray area between safe issues to bring up and taboo topics. It was sort of like how he had skirted mentioning anything even remotely sexual upon her initial return for the simple fact of not wanting to say the wrong thing. Kazuha had been burned, and burned badly.

But as time went by, he realized that Kazuha was really not likely to be scared off by jokes or offhand comments like that. If anything, she seemed more comfortable with him now than she ever had before. So he had slowly reintroduced normal banter into their daily conversations, and been rewarded when she smacked him upside the head and called him an ahou.

There was only one thing he really wanted to ask her. And after pondering over it for a while, he decided to bite the bullet and take the plunge. He reasoned that if she didn't want to tell him, she would say so, and that would be the end of it—and he wouldn't really blame her if she refused.

Now he just had to find the right opportunity.

It came in the form of a late-night movie viewing. There was a movie on television that they both had really wanted to see, so they stayed up to watch it. By the end of the movie, he was sitting with his back against the arm of the couch and Kazuha was curled up in his arms, the back of her head against his chest. It was a familiar, comfortable position.

As the credits began to roll, she sighed. "Guess I should get to bed…"

He took a deep breath, and took the plunge. "Hey, Kazuha…can I ask you a question?"

"Hmm…" she murmured.

"…would you tell me what happened?" he said quietly. "Between you and…Adam, was it?"

She tensed, and he felt it. That was definitely not a good sign. It was already on the tip of his tongue to tell her to forget he asked when she said, "You've been wondering for a while, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have."

Kazuha sighed and snuggled a little further into his arms. "I don't think you'll like it. It's not pretty…but if you want to know, I'll tell you." She sounded almost resigned to this, like she knew that this should come out in the open, but she really didn't want to talk about it.

"I want to know," he said firmly, feeling much braver now that he'd asked and she had replied as she had—she wasn't angry. "I want to know what really happened. It feels too much like a secret, and…I don't want there to be secrets like that between us."

"That's fair," she said thoughtfully. "All right…from the beginning. A friend introduced us because she thought I needed more human interaction. Andrea swore up and down that I would just love this guy and he was great and he was just what I needed. So we all went out one night and she brought him along. That guy was Adam, of course. And trust me, he wasn't a total ass when we met. He was actually…very sweet. And I already told you that he had your eyes. The exact same color. That was really what sold me."

Heiji couldn't help but notice that she sounded a bit sheepish at that last.

"We dated for a while, and he was still very sweet," Kazuha went on. "It was after we'd been together about…four months that he started bringing up the topic of sex. At first he just mentioned it casually, but after a while it got to be every single time we went out, he'd bring it up. I kept saying no, and he kept asking about it. It was…really annoying."

"Why did you stick around?" he interjected, though it wasn't accusatory.

"…I liked the attention," she said honestly. "I was lonely, and it was flattering to have someone so focused on me. It's a horrible reason, I know, but that's how it was. But I did tell Andrea that he was starting to freak me out. She asked me why I didn't just do it, and teased me when I told her that I didn't want to." Her tone turned icy. "That was the end of that friendship."

Heiji chuckled dryly. "I was about to ask…"

"After a while…I guess he just wore me down. I really wasn't that excited about the idea, and I was tired of him asking about it, but I didn't want to end it because I was really tired of being alone. So finally, I just said yes. And…yeah," she trailed off and shifted uncomfortably. "He came over and that was that."

"…what happened next?" he asked. "I mean…not that part. You don't have to talk about that if you don't want to. But afterwards?"

She sighed. "It was…pleasant enough, I guess, as far as first times could go. But I regretted it before it was over. And then like a true charmer, he rolled over and went to sleep. I just cried for a little while until I dozed off. And when I woke up the next morning, he was gone."

"Bastard…" Heiji breathed.

"A few days went by and I didn't hear from him. It was about a week later that he called and asked if I wanted to go to the mall. So we went to this mall—it was about a ten-minute drive from my apartment building. He was silent the entire way there," she shifted again. "Once we got there and went in…he told me it was over. And then he left."

"Wait—he left?"

"Yup."

"Did he take you home?" Heiji asked incredulously.

"Nope. He walked out and left me there."

"I'm regretting more and more that I didn't kill him when he was here," Heiji growled.

"There's more, though," she said calmly. "It was too far to walk, and I was sort of in shock, so walking wasn't a good idea. A good friend of mine, Kathy, worked at that mall. So I walked down to the store where she worked. And lucky me, there she was. I just asked her for help—she obviously couldn't leave to take me home, but she let me use the phone. So I called one of our good friends, Sara. And she said to wait in the store, she'd be there in five minutes."

While Heiji was processing all of this, Kazuha pushed away from him and sat up. She turned enough to give him a good view of her profile, but did not look directly at him. "I hung up the phone and started to cry. I guess that's when it hit me what had just happened. I didn't even care where I was or who was watching. I sat down on the floor behind the counter and just bawled. I don't know what I would have done if Kathy hadn't been there. I guess she got her co-worker's attention before she grabbed my arm and dragged me to the back room. By the time Sara got there, Kathy had calmed me down a little bit—enough to tell them what had happened."

Heiji shook his head. "Man…"

"I told them everything—they knew Adam had been bothering me about sex, but it wasn't until then that I told them I'd caved. I told them how he'd just dumped me. And then I cried a lot more. Kathy had to go back to work, but she let Sara sit back there with me for a long time before she got me out of there. She took me home and stayed there with me."

Heiji found himself wishing that he could have met these two girls.

"I felt like a whore," Kazuha said bluntly. "I'd been used, and I knew it. Well, a little while later, the phone rang. Sara answered it. Kathy was off work and she was coming over. She got there about fifteen minutes later bearing burgers, ice cream, and two big bottles of tequila." She actually chuckled at that. "Then they basically jumped me, pinned me to the floor, and forced first the food and then the booze down my throat while repeating 'He's an asshole, he's an asshole' over and over again. We got completely hammered, did goofy things for a while—I'm a really happy drunk, for the record—and woke up the next morning on my living room floor."

Now Heiji wanted to thank them.

"About three days later, I was sitting at home by myself, thinking about things…and I just snapped," she admitted. "I was completely lost, I felt totally alone…and I realized how much I missed you. I really don't remember going to the airport or anything…the next thing I knew, I was on the plane. And now here I am. You know the rest."

"Do you miss your friends?" Heiji asked. "Those two girls?"

"I do miss them. Remember when we went back to the States to get my stuff, and I said I had to go somewhere? That's where I went—I went to go see Sara and Kathy. I felt horrible about running off like that without telling them, and it turns out that they were really worried about me. They didn't know if something had happened to me or if I was okay…" Her tone was fond. "They were wonderful friends. I write them frequently. Sara in particular wants to meet you one of these days." At last, she turned to look at Heiji with a wry smile. "I showed her your picture. She thinks you're hot."

Heiji laughed. "It's official—I need to meet them one of these days."

"Maybe we can work that out," she chuckled in response before her expression turned more somber; she bit her lip nervously. "But that's the whole story. So…what do you think?"

"I think you lucked out in the friend department. I think it was a good thing that you got away from that son of a bitch, even though the method of getting away was that painful. And I think that if that guy ever comes back here again, he's going to die. And," Heiji leaned forward for a hug, which she leaned into without reservation, "I'm not sorry I asked."

"What would have happened if you had been sorry you asked?" Kazuha mumbled into his shoulder.

"Hmm…" Heiji seemed to think for a second before he grinned wickedly. "Ya know, tequila does seem to solve a lot of problems, and you said that you were a very happy dru—"

Kazuha leaned back and glared at him. "Would you stop ruining these nice moments?"

"I can't help it!" he half-whined, laughing as she grabbed his head and tried to wrestle him into a choke-hold. "I swear, I don't try to do that! It just happens! ACK!"

Failing to get him appropriately restrained for a noogie, Kazuha pushed off the couch in a huff and marched towards her bedroom. Still, she paused in the doorway and gave him a slight smile. "Ahou."

* * *

**PS.** _There you have it—what happened between Kazuha and the Jerk. Just a few quick story notes…_

_First: Sara and Kathy are two of my actual friends. One is an online buddy who I really think was my sister in a previous life, and the other I have known since kindergarten—almost seventeen years. BOTH OF YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!_

_Secondly: I'm sure someone out there is thinking that this is not a realistic break-up. I would agree with you, except that it actually happened to a friend of mine—her boyfriend broke up with her almost exactly as you see it here. Took her to the mall, said it was over, and ditched her. So it's really as real as you get. Truth is stranger than fiction, yes?_

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	58. Blessings

**Title: **Blessings  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Ai (General series)  
**Prompt: **#69—thunder  
**Word Count: **1093 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She didn't know how long she'd been running. A Sherry fic.

* * *

She knew she was getting a lot of strange looks. It was to be expected, really—a young girl of elementary school age running through the rain, all alone, while wearing the clothes of an adult? She was genuinely surprised that no one had actually stopped her yet. It was one of those rare ways in which fate had blessed her. She really hadn't had a great deal of luck in her young life.

…or had she?

Her mind had made her invaluable to the Syndicate—that had kept her alive for this long. The poison that should have ended her life had instead been her savior, allowing her to slip her bonds and escape certain death. And she had a destination in mind, a place to go. A botched assassination attempt by the one who now sought to end her life had left her with a single hope for sanctuary…and someday, perhaps absolution.

Perhaps there had been more blessings in her life than she had thought.

Until recently, she'd had her sister…

How long had she been running now? The rain-drenched streets seemed endless. She was exhausted. She desperately wanted to stop and take a short break to catch her breath, to try and make the burning in her throat go away, but she didn't dare. Not here, out in the open.

The sky was ominous, the clouds of the darkest gray. Thunder rolled across the heavens at intervals. Somehow, it reminded her of the sound of Gin's Porsche. And both were pursuing her, baying like the hounds of hell themselves.

But finally—oh, finally, she had reached Beika.

She knew where the house was. She had been there before, conducting an examination of the residence at the Syndicate's behest. They'd had suspicions that the intended victim had not perished, but somehow escaped with his life. She had noticed an oddity there—something that fit with an observation she had made in the laboratory. It was evidence enough for her. She kept quiet about it, and now it was information that could save her.

Still, it took her a minute to find the house in question. And finally, her steps slowed.

It was only then that she realized just how heavy her clothes were—they were too big, and weight all the more for being drenched. Her limbs seemed to be cast in lead, weighted down. Her lungs and throat were aflame. And her head felt strange; her vision was clouded and blurry, like she was trying to move through gelatin.

…he wouldn't be here. She knew perfectly well, on a completely intellectual level, that the massive house was empty. But it was her only option. She had nowhere else to go.

It took a great deal of energy to lift one hand and wrap her fingers around a bar on the gate. That was really all the power she had left. Her strength left her, her knees gave out, and she slumped, face-first, to the wet sidewalk.

_So…close…_

Consciousness slipped away, and she gave up the futile struggle for it. Her head lulled to the side; she floated into darkness. Her last thought was one of bitter resignation, that she had been wrong about her blessings; her last sensation was of the rain falling on her…

And the feeling that someone was leaning over her.

_**-o-**_

She was warm.

And whatever she was laying on was far too soft to be concrete. Where was she? Had she been caught?

She opened her eyes and looked around. The room was unfamiliar. She was resting on a futon, covered by a blanket; there was a lamp on nearby, providing light. There were no restraints on her, which probably meant that whoever had brought her here was not one of Them. It didn't look like a dungeon or prison. If anything, this looked like the inside of someone's home. So who…and where…?

"Are you awake?" The voice was male, older, and carried no threat or ill will.

Still, despite the appearance and feeling of safety, years of habit could not immediately be forgotten. Though she recognized quickly that she was probably not in danger, her instincts took over. She sat bolt upright, intending to get to her feet and be ready to run again…but she immediately fell back against the futon, awash in dizziness. Through the haze, she saw a portly bald man with a white moustache leaned over her; he appeared concerned.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Who are you?" she asked; her voice was hoarse.

"Agasa Hiroshi," he said. So far, none of her instincts were telling her of danger. "I found you outside. You were unconscious." He seemed to be thinking about something, some unknown idea that he had yet to voice; still, her internal alarm bells stayed silent. "Did you get lost?"

"Looking for someone," she murmured. It seemed legitimately safe to say that much, at least.

"In that house?"

"Yes."

"There's no one living there at the moment," Agasa said.

"Where is he?" she asked. "Kudo?"

Agasa was quiet long enough to convince her that he was trying to decide on an answer—which meant that he knew something. Still, he finally replied with a neutral "He's away."

It seemed to be a confirmation of her suspicions, however vague, and she smiled weakly. "He's alive, then…I was right…" At the man's surprised expression, she added, "Did he shrink as well?"

There was no mistaking the alarm in Agasa's face at those words. While he seemed to search for a reply, she sat up again—slowly this time so as to avoid a repeat of a few minutes earlier—and said, "I need to find Kudo Shinichi. If you know where he is, please tell me."

The old man stared at her for a moment before he spoke. "Who…are you?"

"…my name is Miyano Shiho," she said after a pause of her own. "Somehow I suspect you'll believe this, but I am eighteen years old. And I need Kudo's help."

"What happened to you?"

"Perhaps I should explain. You have no reason to trust me as things are now, so I doubt you will tell me of Kudo," she sighed. Still, it could be worse. She didn't seem to be in any danger, and this man knew of her elusive quarry. He didn't seem to think her crazy—rather, he believed her. For the moment, she was safe.

…maybe she was blessed after all.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. "I created a poison called apotoxin 4869…"

* * *

**PS.** _Written for an LJ fic-swap, with a prompt of "running in the rain." Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	59. Not Quite Forgotten

**Title: **Not Quite Forgotten  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Eri/Kogoro (General series)  
**Prompt: **#91—birthday  
**Word Count: **189 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She was certain that he'd blown it, until… Eri/Kogoro

* * *

He'd forgotten.

How could he forget? The man was impossible!

She supposed that she should be fair. Kogoro had been forgetful about this kind of thing long before they had separated. Logic said that it would still be hopeless, especially after ten years of not being under the same roof.

Still, Eri couldn't help but get her hopes up.

But really—no phone call, no card…nothing.

The man was insufferable.

Eri sighed. She should really learn not to expect things from him.

She parked her car and climbed out, pausing only long enough to collect her briefcase. And she stopped to check her mailbox outside her apartment building. There were the usual things—advertisements, bills, junk mail…and a pale blue envelope, a little larger than an average one. Her name and address were inscribed in a very familiar, messy handwriting; there was no return address, though.

Flipping the envelope over, she broke the seal and opened it. A birthday card slid from the envelope into her hand.

She didn't even have to look to see who it was from. It seemed that he hadn't quite forgotten.

Happy birthday, indeed.

* * *

**PS.** _Expanded from a sentence from my **1sentence **set on Eri and Kogoro. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	60. After the Show

**Title: **After the Show  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito/Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#72—fixed  
**Word Count: **5087 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **A lot happened after he spotted her at his performance one night. Kaito/Aoko

* * *

"You have to come with me!"

Aoko turned an exasperated glare on her well-meaning co-worker. "I don't have to do anything."

"Come on! Please?" Haruhi, a bubbly girl two years Aoko's junior, pleaded, throwing in her best puppy eyes. "you know you want to go. Free ticket?"

The debate in question was over a magic show taking place that evening. The performer was a world-famous stage magician, and that evening was his last show in town—his home town, no less—before his latest tour was over. Haruhi was a die-hard fan, and had been planning to go see the show from the minute she heard about it. But her friend had bailed on her at the last minute due to a family emergency, and so she was desperate for a friend to go with her. And thus, she had chosen Aoko.

"It's just…not my kind of thing," Aoko sighed.

"Have you ever seen this guy perform? He's amazing!"

Aoko didn't reply. She didn't want to tell her that yes, she had seen him perform many, many times. The first time she had seen the magician do a trick, they had been five years old in front of a clock tower; he had pulled a rose from thin air and introduced himself. Years later they had parted ways; it had been her choice, not his, and was definitely less than amiable.

"Aoko, please? Go with me?" Haruhi asked, this time in a softer voice.

Finally, Aoko let herself be worn down. "All right," she said. "All right. I'll go with you."

While Haruhi bubbled up with excitement, Aoko quietly hoped she wasn't making a mistake.

_**-o-**_

The auditorium was packed with people. It wasn't too surprising, really, given his star status as a world-renowned performer. Even here, in his own hometown, he was recognized and adored. And he was good—Aoko knew how good he had been when they were still in high school. Now with a few years of experience under his belt and world-class training and equipment at his disposal…

She shifted in her seat and regretted her decision to come. Beside her, Haruhi was fidgeting. "Almost time, almost time!" she squealed quietly, and Aoko fought down the urge to sigh.

Finally, the house lights went down, and an excited murmur rippled over the crowd as they quieted down. Then the curtain rose…on an empty stage. There was another cascade of quiet mumbling from the audience…

Until there was an enormous puff of smoke in the middle of the auditorium and the spotlight focused on the man who had magically appeared in the aisle as the audience erupted into cheers. Aoko didn't even applaud; her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw him.

Kuroba Kaito.

Still, she managed to stay in her seat, despite the fact that she just wanted to run. And she watched the show. Some of the things he was doing on stage were absolutely miraculous. He was still as much of a performer as ever—even paying homage to his father by pulling a giant turkey out of his hat. And he was good enough to actually make her forget, just for a little while, who he was and what had happened between them.

But as the show ended and he performed an encore that made the audience go wild, reality set back in. When the curtain came down and the show was officially over, Aoko just wanted to get out of there.

But her plans to escape were thwarted when they finally made it out of the building; the milling crowds had been slow-moving, and so it had taken them quite a bit of time to actually get out to the sidewalk. Her friend unwittingly turned out to be her worst enemy. "I want to get his autograph!" Haruhi gushed, grabbing Aoko's hand.

Aoko felt her heart drop. "W-what?"

"He's always willing to stop and talk to a fan," Haruhi explained, obviously taking Aoko's startled question as a sign of ignorance rather than surprise. "He usually goes to the stage door after performances and signs autographs, poses for pictures, that kind of thing. I want his autograph!"

_Oh no…_ Something deep inside Aoko went cold. She couldn't see him—she just couldn't. Not after everything that had happened to them, between them. She shouldn't even have come to this show tonight, but her curiosity had won her over. Seeing him on the stage from the anonymity of the audience was one thing. But face to face?

"Haruhi, wait!" she tried to protest, but they were already around the corner. The stage door was at the back of the building, and there were about half a dozen girls standing around it. In terms of age, they ranged from early teens to maybe late twenties. There were more girls on the sidewalk, giggling, and still more walking away, jabbering excitedly and looking at the items in their hands. She assumed that they were autographs; the ink probably wasn't even dry yet. And standing in the doorway…

It was him.

He looked exactly as she'd remembered him, more or less. He'd always had sharp features, and they had finally settled into an adult face. His hair was still a mess—some things would never change, she imagined. And he was still wearing the clothes he had finished the performance in—white pants and a red shirt. And even from where she was, she could see that his eyes were the exact same shade of blue.

The most painful thing about the scene was that he was smiling. One of the younger girls was saying something eagerly to him, and he was smiling while he signed her book. It was the same smile…or was it?

Aoko couldn't breathe. She had to get out of there. It was a mistake to come.

"Haruhi, I'm sorry, but I've gotta go," she gasped, wrenching her hand loose and turning to get away from the stage door and from the man who had broken her heart years ago and who she had spent those years trying to forget. She barely even heard her friend's protest.

She ran for about a block before slowing to a brisk walk, which she kept up for a few more blocks before slowing again. After a while she stopped and just stood there, her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She just needed a minute to steady herself and get her breathing to even out.

Because really, the more she thought about it…the more she realized that it wasn't that she didn't want to see Kaito. She did. She wanted to see him desperately. But she wasn't sure if she could truly swallow the things she had said that long ago. And given everything, he really had every right to reject her. Besides, it wasn't like that one time…he probably wasn't even talking about her. It was highly doubtful that he would even recognize—

"Aoko?"

—her.

She straightened instinctively and turned around. One hand drew to clutch at her heart. "Kaito…"

He was panting now, and she had the impression that he had run after her. He hadn't even bothered to grab a jacket against the chill. At the sound of his name, he straightened and looked at her, almost wondrously. "It is you," he said. "I thought it was—but I wasn't sure…it's really you."

"Y-you too…" she said softly, feeling like an idiot. But…had he really run after her?

Kaito opened his mouth, closed it again, and then let out a nervous chuckle. "You look great."

"Thank you," she replied. "So do you." She was probably blushing like a schoolgirl.

"You came to the show…?"

"My friend from work brought me—she had an extra ticket. Insisted I should go."

"I see." Judging by his jerky hand gestures and the fact that he couldn't seem to decide on what exactly to say, he felt more or less as nervous as she did about this encounter. But he cleared his throat and said, "Are you…I mean, do you have somewhere you need to be?"

She could guess where this question was going. "No. I was just on my way home."

He nodded, cleared his throat again, and asked in a subdued tone, "Well…are you hungry?"

She had guessed right. She hesitated for a moment—after all, she had told him that she never wanted to speak to him again. But still…she felt herself smile and heard herself reply, "Sure."

The smile that lit up Kaito's face put the nearby streetlamp to shame. Then he looked a bit discomfited. "Oh…ah, I need to go back and change…my stuff's back at the theatre—" He was uncharacteristically nervous.

"No problem," she said, feeling her smile grow a bit wider. "I can wait."

_**-o-**_

Aoko was pleasantly surprised to find that Jii was not only still working with Kaito, but remembered her. Kaito didn't even have to ask; Jii told him that the crew could handle things. It was the end of the tour—the young master should go celebrate. Kaito looked faintly annoyed at the nickname. Still, he muttered his thanks and hurried to change, leaving Aoko alone with the old man.

They sat on the stage stairs to talk while she waited. The initial chat consisted of the usual polite inquiries and pleasantries—how they were each doing, how was her father, and the like. Then Jii asked. "I think this is the happiest I have seen the young master in quite some time."

"Is it?" Aoko asked, surprised at the comment.

"He was always very fond of you, Aoko-san," Jii explained; it brought to mind the image of one describing a much-beloved grandchild. "The separation was not easy for him at first. I suspect he missed you a great deal more than he let on. To see you again has made him very happy."

"I doubt he missed me that much," Aoko said softly. "I said some horrible things."

"On the contrary," he said knowingly. "I don't believe he blamed you for anything you said to him."

"You knew about it, too?" It was a statement, not a question, and there was no mistaking what 'it' was referring to.

"I did."

"Was I the only one who didn't know what was going on?" she sighed.

"Not at all. But I do hope you two will be able to patch things up."

"Why?"

"Because, Aoko-san," Jii said wisely, "you were always the one person who gave him hope."

It was on the tip of Aoko's tongue to ask what he meant by that, but they were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat nearby. They turned around. Kaito was standing there in jeans and a dark gray jacket; he looked a bit uncomfortable, which suggested that he had heard at least part of the conversation.

"Jii-chan, I'll thank you to stop playing matchmaker like some old woman," Kaito said smoothly, offering Aoko a hand up. His tone softened. "Thanks for handling things." When Jii nodded and waved them off, Kaito turned to her with a smile. "Well, shall we? Any requests? My treat."

_**-o-**_

After a quick chat, they'd agreed on ice cream. It was awfully late to be eating a full meal. There was a nice little place nearby, open twenty-four hours a day. They scored a corner booth, placed their orders, and settled into conversation. It was amazing, how things seemed to pick right back up where they'd left off, as though the harsh words had never happened between them.

Aoko took a long sip of her drink, then fixed him with a raised eyebrow. "So," she said, "you seem to be doing very well for yourself. You're doing what you always wanted to do." She wasn't about to admit how familiar with his career she really was.

"Well…yes, I am," he admitted with a grin. "And I love it. You know better than anyone else that I'm happiest when I'm in front of an audience. I wish everyone could love their job as much as I love mine! Now what about you? I remember you saying you wanted to go into the police academy…"

"Full-fledged member of the police force, thank you very much," she said with an air of feigned haughtiness.

He grinned. "So I should behave myself?"

"You are going to behave yourself. Or else," Aoko said shortly. Then her expression lightened. "So I bet you've traveled the world, seen all sorts of places…got a girl in every port, do you? You've always had a way with the ladies, intentionally or not."

"Ehehe, not quite," he said. "Still quite single. Not that there haven't been…offers. But nope, nothing. And what about you? Married with three kids? Got 'em lined up outside your door, I bet."

"Hardly!" she huffed. "I barely have time to sleep some weeks, let alone date. Like you said, I've had some offers, but nothing's ever panned out." Was it just her imagination, or did he look faintly pleased at that? No, that was silly. "But…it's nice to see you're doing so well. Looks like all your dreams came true, didn't they?" She didn't mean for that last to come out as wistful as it did.

Kaito's expression grew thoughtful. "No," he said quietly. "Not all of them."

Confused, Aoko opened her mouth to ask what he meant by that…and was interrupted by the arrival of their ice cream. In the time it took her to blink, Kaito's face had gone from pensive to ecstatic at the sizable chocolate sundae in front of him. She let the thought go, instead amused at the fact that for all he had grown up, he was still such a child when it came to chocolate.

_**-o-**_

"Are you sure you're all right?" Kaito asked, concerned.

"It's just brain freeze. I'll be fine in a minute." Apparently, Aoko's last bite of ice cream had decided to bite back.

It was a nice evening, if a bit cool, so Kaito had casually suggested a walk. The night was clear, the moon a sliver shy of full. And they happened to be near the river, so it was the obvious choice for a place to go. The conversation they'd had over ice cream continued—catching up, remembering details from the past few years, sharing stories.

After they'd been strolling for a little bit, Aoko decided to go ahead and bring it up. "My dad was really upset when Kaitou Kid retired," she said calmly. "And Hakuba-kun was furious."

"Ah yes, I heard about that," Kaito's response was deceptively calm. Of course, there was no way he could be unaware of the uproar the thief had caused a year and a half earlier when he had sent a note to his favorite Inspector, tendering his resignation as though he were retiring from a legitimate profession. A note also appeared in the newspaper from the legendary criminal, offering his thanks to the police for the many wonderful chases and his fans for their support and encouragement.

"Well? What do you think about it?" she asked.

"About the fact that he retired?"

"That…and why do you think he retired?"

Kaito was quiet for a moment, then stopped walking suddenly enough that Aoko actually went forward another few steps before she realized that he was now behind her. She turned to face him, waiting for his answer. It was something she had been wondering about for a long time.

"If I had to guess…" he said slowly, "I would guess that he accomplished whatever it was that he set out to do. Or he found what he was looking for. Since he was done with it, he could let it go and finally go back to his own life instead of having to chase after something."

"Do you think he regrets?" she pressed.

"Oh, I don't know if he really regrets being a thief," he said. "But I would assume that he regrets at least something about it. Maybe he regrets that he had to lose something for the sake of his mission." His eyes were almost luminous in the moonlight. "Something very precious."

Aoko stood stone-still for a second, processing this. Kaito took advantage of her momentary surprise to do something that she doubted he would have ever done before: he crossed the small distance between them and put his arms around her.

Even if she had wanted to resist, she wouldn't have had the presence of mind to do so. She moved her head to rest her head more comfortably against his chest and slipped her arms around his waist. It was warm and comfortable and safe. She didn't want to move.

"I missed you," he murmured.

Aoko didn't bother with banter or denial. "I missed you too…you idiot…"

Sadly, all good things had to come to an end sooner or later, and she eventually had to lean away from the embrace, stepping back as they separated. But she didn't even have time to catch her breath before his hand was in front of her eyes and a rose appeared in his fingers, seemingly from mid-air.

"Hello. I'm Kuroba Kaito," he said softly. "Nice to meet you." He smiled as she took the rose.

"…I don't want tonight to end," she whispered, studying the contours of the scarlet petals. "But it's getting late…"

"It is," he agreed. "I'll walk you home."

"Before I go home," she looked up at him, "can I see where you're living? Please?" It was a silly request, but it was something to prolong the night for just a little longer. "If you're going to walk me home, it's only fair."

He grinned. "You've already seen it. It's the same house."

"Really? Does your mother still live there?"

"After I started performing, Mom said that the house was mine. Said that I needed the space more than she did, especially if she was ever going to get grandchildren. I'd need a place to raise them—that's a direct quote, by the way," he explained, his tone fond. "We found her a nice apartment."

"You take good care of her, I bet."

"Absolutely."

"Aren't you a good son?"

"That's what Mom tells me."

_**-o-**_

"Wow," Aoko looked around the house she had spent so much time in as a teenager. "It looks exactly the same."

"Not much has really changed here," he agreed, closing the front door and slipping his shoes off. "Just the inhabitants and the visitors." He shed his jacket and took hers in a perfectly display of gentlemanly behavior. He looked like he was about to say something else, but they were interrupted by the sound of a cell phone ringing. Kaito fished into his pocket and pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen. "It's Jii. Wonder if something happened." He threw her an apologetic look. "I need to take this. Feel free to look around—the whole house is open to you!"

She nodded as he ducked into the kitchen. A second later she heard him speaking.

Taking him at his word, she began to wander the house. It really was as she remembered it. Taken by an impulse, she crept quietly up the stairs. When they were teenagers, they spent a great deal of time up there in Kaito's room, doing homework or just hanging out. She figured that room, at least, had changed.

The door was open. It felt a little like she was prying, but she decided to just poke her head in and take a quick look around. Sure enough, the room was completely different. New furniture, new decorations—no longer a student's domain, but the residence of an adult.

Satisfied for reasons she couldn't quite grasp, Aoko started to withdraw…but she paused when she noticed a framed picture on his nightstand. She hesitated, then walked into the room and picked it up for a closer examination.

It was a picture of her and Kaito together. They were in their high school uniforms, and judging by the background, it was taken around the time of the school's culture festival. Kaito's arm was slung casually over her shoulders; she was holding a box of supplies. And they were both smiling, genuinely happy.

Without meaning to, Aoko sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. She remembered that photo, now that she thought about it. It was the last picture that had been taken of them together in high school. Not long after that, their friendship had ended when she had discovered his betrayal. A heist gone wrong.

At the time, she had been so angry. The person she trusted most had proven to be the person she hated most. She knew Kaito better than anyone, and she had used what she knew. The words she had said, the phrases she had chosen…all of them used to hurt him as much as she could with the only weapon she had: her words. She told him she never wanted to see him again. She told him she hated him. She told him a lot of things. And the sign of her success was when his masks slammed down and she could no longer read him.

…and that was the end of it. After that encounter he had not bothered her again or attempted to make any contact with her. Questions from their classmates regarding the situation were ignored, and after graduation he effectively vanished from her life.

Not long after that, she began to hear about an up-and-coming magician who was gaining quite a reputation as a performer. Soon after that, his name was everywhere. A breakout act. The critics were raving about his shows. The fans loved him. He was achieving his dream. And before long, she found herself following the stories, the articles, the appearances…and hating herself for it.

Her fingers traced lightly over the glass, over her face and his. She would have been completely convinced that he had forgotten her if not for that one television interview…

There was a sound in the doorway, startling her. She looked up and saw that Kaito was standing there, hands in his pockets, leaning against the doorframe and watching her with a smile.

Aoko jumped to her feet, the picture still clutched in her hands. "I was just—I mean, the picture caught my eye. I just wanted to take a look. I'm sorry…"

Kaito shook his head. "No, no. I said you can look anywhere."

She realized she was staring. She reacted by looking everywhere except at him, and busied herself by turning away and replacing the picture frame on the nightstand; she paused to fiddle with it for a second, getting it at just the right angle, before she made for the door, keeping her eyes down. "You still have that?"

"Of course I do," he replied softly.

Aoko leaned against the opposite side of the doorframe and regarded him with a blush. "Even after—"

"Yes," he seemed to know what she was going to say. "I told you. I missed you." He leaned his head back and chuckled lightly. "Do you know how many times I tried to call you?" At her look, he went on, "I looked you up a while back. I can't even count how many times I picked up the phone and tried to dial your number. Could never quite get myself to hit that last number, though."

"Why not?"

"Was afraid you'd hang up on me."

Somehow, that statement made her feel fluttery. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything."

"You've always had a knack for throwing me off-balance."

Again, that warm feeling in her stomach. "I see.

There was a pause. They both just stared at each other. And then—

"Let me see you."

Aoko was just opening her mouth to say she should be probably be getting home when Kaito said that in a rush. It stopped her, and she blinked at him in confusion. "What?"

"Please—let me see you," he repeated. "I mean, even if it's just for coffee once in a while or something." His hands fell limply at his sides. "If I called you…would you hang up on me?"

"No," she said after a moment. "I wouldn't."

Another moment of silence. The air between them was crackling.

"Kaito…" she said softly, "…a while back, you did an interview on TV. After you were in that magazine that said you were such an eligible guy—yes, I read the article, and yes, I watched the interview." She admitted that after seeing him raise an eyebrow. "And…I was wondering who you were talking about." She took a deep breath. "When you mentioned your…first love?"

It had been one of those things that had taken the rug out from under her and let her wondering. In the interview, he had been asked why he hadn't let some lucky girl steal his heart away. He'd been quiet for a moment, then quietly admitted that he was still getting over a lost love—his first love—and it wasn't fair to anyone else to attempt a relationship when his heart wasn't entirely his yet.

The audience had collectively let out an 'aww' at that. Aoko had nearly burst into tears. It wasn't something she had ever expected him to say—he was usually very private about such things. But with the publication of that article and the resounding publicity, it seemed he was saying it to stave off further pressure.

It had haunted her for the past several months. And now he was here, and she could ask. Even if he didn't deem fit to tell her, or he told her that he was just saying that to make everyone stop asking, at least she would know.

Instead of either of those responses, he simply looked at her. And there was something in his look…

And then it clicked.

"Oh…" she breathed, one hand moving to lightly cover her mouth. "Kaito, I…"

Now he looked faintly embarrassed. "I guess I hoped I'd get to tell you myself someday, but…" He trailed off.

She realized belatedly just how few masks he had been wearing throughout this conversation. She had seen him flustered, embarrassed, nervous…he was letting her see him as he was right now, and that spoke volumes. Aoko lowered her hand from her mouth. "Kaito…are you thinking what I'm thinking right now?"

Kaito's eyes were intense. "I don't know. I was thinking how much I'd really like to—"

"—kiss you," she finished.

That was all it took. He reached for her as she reached for him and they met in the middle.

He leaned against her, pressing one hand to the small of her back to crush her against him. He put his free arm between the doorframe and her head to act as a cushion, trapping her between the door and his own body. Meanwhile, her hands were tracing his face, feeling the well-chiseled features beneath her fingers; she slid her arms around him, finally tangling both her hands in his hair.

Somehow, everything that had been destroyed between them in the past was all right now. That which was ruined was now fixed, by some magic, in the moment of that kiss.

Suddenly, Aoko realized where they were, and the possible implications of crashed into her. She needed to set that record straight at least. It took a great deal of will power to move her head back enough to break the kiss. Kaito looked at her questioningly.

"J-just to be clear," she gasped, out of breath, "…regardless of where we are…your bedroom or not…I'm not going to sleep with you. Not tonight. Too soon…" When she saw the surprised look on his face, she wanted to hide her face. "…or it could be that the thought hadn't even crossed your mind."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Actually, the thought did cross my mind. But I wasn't going to suggest it. You're right—it is too soon."

Aoko smiled. "And I'm really not God's gift to men…"

"I don't agree with that," Kaito said, pressing his forehead to hers. "You're certainly God's gift to me." Another quick kiss. "So…I can call you?"

Aoko laughed. "Oh, I think that's a definite possibility."

_**-o-**_

_Several months later…_

When Kaito came upstairs, Aoko was sitting on the edge of his bed by the nightstand. It was like reliving a moment from the recent past, seeing her in that exact same place. The difference, though, was that before, she had been studying a photograph from his nightstand—said photograph had been replaced by a more recent one. But tonight, he walked in and found her sliding his nightstand drawer closed.

She turned and looked at him with a smile that seemed to radiate false innocence. "Hey."

"What're you doing?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Nothing," she said airily, cementing his suspicion that she was doing something. She rose and crossed the room to meet him in the doorway. Her arms slid around his neck, drawing him down for a very sweet kiss.

When they separated, Kaito smiled. "All right, what are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing," she leaned back against the wall. "I was just thinking that I'm a little tired."

"Do you want me to walk you home?" he asked.

"No, I'd rather stay here," she replied. "With you."

"Oh?" One of Kaito's eyebrows arched suspiciously.

"I was just wondering when we were going to sleep together," she said lightly.

"…we have slept together," he said, recalling a few naps (most of them unplanned) where they had woken up, curled together on the couch or on a bed. "You snore."

Aoko was all innocence. "That's not what I meant."

Finally, the light bulb clicked on. "Oh…oh!" Kaito's eyes widened for a moment before he smiled.

"Took you long enough."

"So in the nightstand—"

"Certain things."

By now his hands were at her hips and her arms were around his neck, and they were beginning to make their way across the room, from the door to the bed. "You planned this, didn't you?" Kaito asked, slipping his fingers under her shirt, across the bare skin of her back.

"I'm not good at seduction, but I think I got my point across," she said, drawing him down to her.

Kaito grinned and lowered her back to the bed. "Point made."

* * *

**PS.** _HAPPY BIRTHDAY, __**FYLIWION**__!! I hope you like your birthday present! And to everyone else, I hope you enjoyed it as well. Fic number sixty, WHOO! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	61. Gossip

**Title: **Gossip  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito/Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#71—broken  
**Word Count: **2252 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **There are hazards to dating a celebrity. Kaito/Aoko

* * *

Kuroba Kaito could not recall ever being happier.

His career had taken off in ways he had barely dared to dream possible. As a result, he had gotten to see the world, performing in venues all around the globe. He had dazzled audiences on every continent, ranging from large public shows to smaller engagements to charity performances of various sizes and types.

And now he had someone to come home to at the end of it all.

It had been almost two months since he had spotted Aoko outside his show and chased her down. That had been a night of rediscovery, of remembering why he had fallen for her and then falling for her all over again. And then they had kissed, and the world had seemed such a beautiful place. She had forgiven him. When he asked if he could call her, she said yes. And he had taken her at her word on that.

He had heard about whirlwind courtships, but he'd always believed them to be, at best, very silly. But he'd had Aoko back in his life for two months, and he was already wondering what she'd say if he were to mention the subject of marriage. Oh, he wasn't going to—not for some time yet—but the thought had crossed his mind on more than one occasion, and while out running errands one day, he'd found himself pausing to admire some rings in a shop window and wondering how one of them would look on her finger.

Still, they were very much a couple and very happy for it. After all, it had been years in the making, and he felt like he was making up for lost time; he delighted in taking her out and surprising her whenever he could. This morning, for example, he was heading over to Aoko's apartment with the intention of kidnapping her for breakfast. He was due at his office later to go over the plans for a new trick, but the morning was all for her.

He was on the sidewalk with the intention of grabbing his usual morning paper and then heading for her place, all while enjoying the sunny weather, when his cell phone rang. A glance at the caller ID screen said it was her, and he answered with a smile. "Hey!"

"Kaito?" she said tentatively.

Immediately he paused. There was something off about her voice. "Aoko, what's wrong?"

There was a pause before she spoke again. "It's over."

His heart dropped into his shoes. "What?"

"It's over. Don't call me again," she said, her voice cracking painfully. She sounded like she had been crying.

"Aoko, what are you—" That was as far as he got before she hung up the phone, leaving him to stand in the middle of the sidewalk and stare at the phone in his hand as though it had personally wronged him somehow.

At a complete loss for what to do, he continued walking, and wound up at the newspaper stand where he had bought his paper almost every morning since middle school. The elderly man who ran the place, Yamada-san, was there, just as he was every morning. Kaito had befriended the man many years past, and frequently stopped to talk to him as he picked up his news. He was pleasant conversation.

But today, Yamada-san's oft-calm demeanor turned to one of unusual excitability when he saw Kaito. "Kaito-kun," he gestured quickly for Kaito to come into the booth itself. "Where is your pretty friend?"

That meant Aoko. "I assume she's at home," Kaito sighed. "She just broke up with me over the phone."

"Did she say why?"

"No."

"Then you might want to have a look at this."

A magazine was thrust into Kaito's hands, open to a certain page. He recognized the logo of the publication; it was little more than a glorified gossip rag of questionable journalistic integrity. Still, he obediently scanned the page…and paused when he spotted a photo near the bottom of the page.

More specifically, a photo of him and Aoko.

There was nothing terribly special about the picture itself—it just showed them out together. They were each holding a beverage, and Aoko was pointing to something in a shop window. They were smiling. But the caption accompanying the photo was surprising. It addressed the "mystery girl" who had been seen frequently in the company of one of Japan's most eligible bachelors. And it was not exactly flattering.

Kaito's temper started to rise…until he thought of Aoko. If she had seen this…

He looked up at the older man. "This is—"

"Go find your pretty friend," Yamada-san instructed in a tone that left no room for debate. "And get her back."

"Got it," Kaito didn't need to be told twice. He darted out of the booth, got two meters down the sidewalk, and realized he was still holding the magazine. He started to turn with the intention of going back and actually paying for the thing, but was stalled in that venture by Yamada-san, who was waving him on with a shake of the head.

There was something to be said for being a regular customer.

_**-o-**_

When he got to Aoko's apartment, the magazine still tucked under his arm, he paused at the door. If he knocked, chances were that she would not let him in. He'd tried calling her again, and received no answer. This really left him with two options: leave, or take an alternate method into her apartment. He had never been a quitter, particularly when it was something this important. Which left him with one choice.

Kaitou Kid may have retired, but that didn't mean that he had let his skills rust, per se. And there were some things that were so ingrained into him that he would never forget them, no matter how long it had been. And it just so happened that picking locks fell into that category.

A glance up and down the hallway proved that he could do this without being observed. He did so quickly and silently, with barely a soft click to betray that he had gained entrance. Taking a deep breath, he eased the door open and slid inside. He crept inside…and stopped when he saw Aoko.

She was curled up in her big chair, still in her pajamas. And Kaito's impression of her voice over the phone proved to be correct—she was crying. She looked lost, and she had not yet noticed his presence. A glance around the room proved that there was a certain magazine lying open to a certain page on the table near her.

He stood there, a silent observer, watching as she stood up and slid a hand through her messy hair while she started to walk towards the kitchen. But she stopped in the open doorway that linked the two rooms and paused; her back straightened, and he assumed that she had sensed that something was not as it should be.

Sure enough, she turned around very slowly to face him. Now he could see her face much more clearly, and the red-rimmed eyes seemed even more pronounced from this angle. And she looked…frightened? Of him? "K-Kaito…"

He took one step towards her; she turned and moved quickly into the kitchen. Alarmed, he sprinted after her, not even bothering to remove his shoes. He caught her by the sink, turning her to face him. She pushed his arm off and faced him defiantly. "What are you doing here?" she said angrily. "How did you get—did you break into my apartment?" Her eyes widened. "How dare you! I told you not to—"

"You told me not to call you again," he replied. "Said nothing about visiting."

"Get out," she demanded. "I don't…I don't want you here." Her chin quivered on that last, though.

Kaito took a step towards her, holding her eyes firmly with his own. "I'm not leaving," he said, and even he was surprised at how icy his voice was, "until you tell me why, Aoko. I want to know why you say we're through. I think I'm entitled to that much, at the very least."

Her eyes widened slightly, but she waved a hand and adopted a rather light air. "I just don't think we'll work out, that's all. I mean, we're very different people and I just think we'll wind up—"

He cut her off when he held up the magazine, open to the appropriate page. He made sure to hold it right at her eye-level so there was no way for her to miss it. And he watched her reaction very closely to see if he was right.

Aoko stopped in mid-word and stared at the page in horror for a split second. She did not take time to read the page, but instead immediately looked off to the side. It was enough for Kaito to confirm his suspicions. That little article in the gossip column had something to do with it, he was sure.

Dropping the magazine on the table, he folded his arms and regarded her again, a bit more kindly this time. "Now, Aoko," he said again, with less venom in his voice now, "I'd like you to tell me why you're breaking up with me."

She didn't answer immediately. Instead she looked down and wrapped her arms around herself. "Leave," she said shortly after a moment, trying to walk past him. If he had to guess, he would have assumed she was trying to make a break for either the bathroom or her bedroom. They had locks on the doors.

But there was no way he was going to just let her walk away, and he suspected that she knew that before she even tried. He put an arm out in front of her to stop her, and then when she walked into that arm, he wrapped it around her shoulders to pull her against him. "I'm right, aren't I?" he asked.

No reply.

"C'mon, talk to me," he said softly, giving her a tiny shake.

"Go away," she whispered brokenly. "It's bad for you to be seen with me, isn't it?"

There it was—exactly what he was looking for. "Is that what you think?"

"That's what it says, isn't it?" she pointed haphazardly in the vague direction of the magazine on the table. "That someone like you shouldn't be with someone like me." Whoever had written that article seemed to be a fan of Kaito's, and the tone of it had suggested that the author (presumably female) did not take kindly to anyone moving in on the object of her daydreams.

He was pushing her backwards, gently, until her back touched the fridge. Then he eased back to look at her. She was crying again. "That's what it says. Doesn't mean it's true." A finger under her chin was all it took to make her look up at him. "Do you really want us to break up, Aoko?"

"It's for the best, isn't it?"

"The best for us and what we want? Or the best for what some selfish idiot wants?" Kaito asked. "Now just answer the question. Do you really want us to break up? Over the words of a stranger who doesn't know you, doesn't know me, and doesn't know anything about us or our relationship? If you say yes, I'll leave. No questions asked."

"Kaito," she started to say something, faltered, then tried again. "I just don't want to hurt you or your career. I know how important that is to you, and if it's bad for you to be seen with me, then—"

"Baka," he said. "Given the choice, I'd pick you over my career. No contest."

"What?" she asked, truly stunned.

"You're more important to me than performing," he said simply.

Having her arguments shot down one by one, Aoko looked down and wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach. "I just…" she faltered, then tried again. "I just want you to be happy. That's all."

Feeling himself smile, Kaito leaned in until his forehead was brushing hers. "The last two months, Aoko…they've been the happiest of my life." She looked up again; now they were nose to nose as he went on. "You make me happy, and I don't get why you think I'd be happier without you. Now," his hands slid to her waist, "do you really want us to break up?"

"We probably should—" she started, but cut herself off as they both lunged at the same time.

Amidst the meld of kisses, Aoko pulled back enough to breathe a single syllable in answer to the question he had been asking since he'd arrived at her apartment—"_No…"_—before she was again claimed. When they broke apart, they were both red-faced and out of breath.

Kaito smiled, pressed her for one more kiss, and then took a step back. "Get dressed."

"What?" she blinked.

"You've got," he paused and looked at his watch, "…exactly nine minutes to get dressed. In nine minutes I'm kidnapping you and taking you out for breakfast. And I'm taking you with me however you are." He grinned and turned to walk back out to the living room.

"Kaito, wait—"

"Eight minutes and forty-five seconds," he sang. Sensing that he probably meant it, Aoko raced for her room in a mad search for actual clothes. Still, she was smiling from ear to ear.

* * *

**PS.** _This is a follow-up to the previous fanfic100 story, "After the Show." Just a random idea that I've been nursing for a while and thought fit well as a sequel. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	62. The Eyes Have It

**Title: **The Eyes Have It  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Ran, Kazuha, Heiji (General series)  
**Prompt: **#34—not enough  
**Word Count: **856 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **It was right there in his eyes, the way he looked at you. Ran-Kazuha friendship, light H/K

* * *

Trying to keep Ran calm was turning into a more difficult task than Kazuha had anticipated. The young woman from Tokyo, though usually fairly reasonable, was in quite a state, running her, there, and the other place as she waited for news on Kudo-kun's condition.

Kazuha understood. She understood all too well. If their roles were reversed, and it was Heiji who had been wheeled into emergency surgery after taking a bullet to the chest, Kazuha would have been doing the same thing Ran was doing now. But as a friend, she knew she had to step in.

She caught Ran's arm, startling her into stopping. She took advantage of that to put her hands on Ran's shoulders. "He'll be fine. You need to calm down. Panicking isn't going to help—you're just going to wear yourself out."

There were tears in Ran's eyes, which was not surprising. "I can't just sit there and wait! I—I have to do something!" Her voice cracked harshly on the last word.

"We have to trust the doctors," Kazuha said firmly, an echo of an earlier moment when she had said the exact same thing to a panicking Heiji to calm him down. "There's nothing else we can do. The doctors will do everything they can to save him."

"But what if they can't save him?" Ran asked in a tearful whisper. "I'll never get to talk to him again, and I'll never know how he—" She stopped again, putting one shaky hand to her lips to stave off any further babbling. "I just can't lose him…god, I'm so scared…"

Kazuha smiled knowingly, feeling the first prick of tears in her own eyes. "You'll never know how he feels about you, right?" Ran looked startled as she went on. "I can tell you that, Ran-chan—he loves you."

Ran looked baffled. "What? How do you—"

Kazuha cut her off with a sad smile and a shake of the head. "Remember the night of the play? When he stepped in as the Black Knight? I watched him. It was really obvious how he felt about you—it was right there in his eyes, the way he looked at you."

"…how did you see it?" Ran asked.

"Of course I'd recognize that look," Kazuha said softly. Her composure finally broke beneath the strain of watching over her two friends in addition to handling her own conflicting emotions, and the first tear rolled free, followed by another and another, so many in quick succession. It was the perfect moment, the perfect chance to tell someone her most guarded secret—Ran wouldn't tell, wouldn't laugh…

"Kazuha-chan?" Ran was calling to her.

Making a decision, she took a deep, shaky breath and said, "I know Kudo-kun loves you…because the way he watches you is the same way I watch Heiji."

Ran's eyes widened. "You—"

"I know. It's stupid, isn't it?" she said with a sad laugh. "I fell for him. After everything, I fell for him, just like the idiot he always says I am. And he's the only one who doesn't get it…" She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand as the tears fell harder.

"It's not easy, is it?" Ran said tearfully, pulling her in for a hug. "Never easy…"

"Nothing's ever easy. It's never good enough," Kazuha said, her voice shuddering. She followed Heiji, watching out for him, trying to keep him safe, worrying about him…and for what? It was never enough. It just wasn't enough…

"But you two still have a chance," Ran whispered, pulling back to look at her. "Don't be like me. Don't be as stupid as I was and not tell him. Don't waste time. You might not get another chance." This was true insight, the voice of wisdom gained by painful experience.

Kazuha was about to reply when they were interrupted. "Ran-chan!" Satou was hurrying towards them; she came to a stop, her high heels sliding slightly on the tile floor. "He just came out of surgery."

Ran threw a look back at Kazuha, who waved her off. "Go. Hurry—tell me how he is." The order didn't need to be repeated, and Ran and Satou were off in a hurry, leaving Kazuha to stand in the middle of the hospital corridor and just turn her own thoughts over in her head.

Particularly Ran's parting words…

"Kazuha?"

She froze at the sound of her name. And slowly, she turned to face the source of the voice.

Heiji was standing there, watching her with a startled look on his face. She didn't even have to ask how long he'd been there. She knew at a glance that he had heard plenty.

"Kazuha…you…" he said slowly, then stopped as though unsure of what exactly to say.

She stood there for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Then Ran's words came back to her about not making the same mistakes and not wasting time. And slowly, Kazuha smiled.

One of them had to grow up first, and it might as well be her.

Squaring her shoulders…she told him the truth.

* * *

**PS.** _Short little Ran-Kazuha friendship fic. Yay! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	63. Under the Weather

**Title: **Under the Weather  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi/Ran (General series)  
**Prompt: **#56—breakfast  
**Word Count: **554 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Shinichi doesn't feel too hot.

* * *

Ran was taken aback at how hoarse Shinichi's voice was when he answered the door. Even more startling was the fact that his face was the same shade of white as his school uniform shirt.

"Just a sec…" he wheezed. When he walked slowly back towards the kitchen, he left the door open as a silent invitation for her to come in and wait inside. She did so, and followed him. There was a plate of toast on the counter, undoubtedly intended to be breakfast.

She watched as he lifted one slice of the toast to his mouth, then seemed to change his mind and drop it back to the place in a spray of dry crumbs. His eyes had taken on an incredibly glassy look.

"Shinichi, are you feeling okay?" she asked, setting her school satchel down on the counter. It was probably a stupid question, but she felt she should at least ask. While he slurred that he was fine, she moved across the room and put her hand to his forehead. She didn't even have to compare his temperature to her own—he was burning up. "You can't go to school like this!" she protested.

"I'm fine," he murmured again. "Just need some coffee…" He reached for his usual choice of morning beverage, but Ran caught his wrist and pulled him out of the kitchen.

"You're going back to bed," she told him firmly.

"But—but—" he seemed to stir a little at being denied his morning dose of caffeine, but he wilted again as she half-dragged him up the stairs towards his bedroom.

"You need to change back into your pajamas and go back to sleep," she ordered, pointing at the bed, then amended, "Err, wait until I leave to change. I'll bring your schoolwork by later."

He stared at her with that same blank, glazed stare, like he didn't have the faintest clue what she was talking about. And he was starting to sway slightly from side to side as well.

Ran sighed. "Shinichi, just go to bed. I'll see if there's any medicine in the bathroom."

While he obediently flopped over onto his bed—not even managing to get his head on the pillow—Ran went in search of medication. Finding some basic cold and flu tablets in the bathroom cabinet, she filled a glass with water and brought it back. He hadn't moved an inch.

"Take this," she instructed. With some effort, he sat up and did so before rolling right back down to the bed. It seemed that since the burden of even attempting to put on a normal façade had been lifted, he was officially allowing himself to feel like crap. Smiling in spite of herself, Ran set the glass and the rest of the pills down on the nightstand. "Take more later. Now get some sleep."

A faint murmur was the only reply, and Ran sighed. He could be such a baby when he was feeling under the weather. Still, as she closed the door (and heard the first soft snore), she couldn't help but chuckle to herself at it all.

Shinichi might get sick frequently, and he might be a big baby about it…but as long as he was stuck in bed with a fever, then Ran knew exactly where he was.

* * *

**PS.** _Little slice o' life fic. First time Shinichi and Ran have made an appearance in this challenge on their own, since I was writing them for another challenge. I'm sure they'll pop up a few more times before this challenge is over. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	64. Signed, Sealed, Delivered

**Title: **Signed, Sealed, Delivered  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Characters:** Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#47—heart  
**Word Count: **770 words  
**Rating:** PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary:** She wrote it on an impulse, and he saw it. Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

Years of teasing and prodding were finally starting to get to Kazuha. She was starting to crack—she was losing her mind. She was…she was…

She was starting to believe them.

She was starting to wonder about her and Heiji.

Granted, she knew how she felt about her long-time best friend. She had known that for a long time. But she didn't know how Heiji felt. Hell, she didn't know if Heiji even knew how Heiji felt. The boy might be a genius detective, but his cluelessness was the stuff of legends.

Still, her friends insisted that he was obviously in love with her…though she protested that she didn't really see it. Unless ahou was actually a code-word or something, there wasn't any indication of such feelings existing within that boy.

But one day during class, she found herself spacing off, daydreaming about the future. And she found herself thinking of whirlwind romances—involving a certain ahou for reasons she did not want to disclose. None of it was terribly realistic, but it was nice to dream.

As the lecture wore on, she found herself seriously wondering what it would be like to date Heiji. And somewhere along the line, her thoughts jumped to ones of marriage. Either way, she envisioned arguments (some of which involved throwing things)…and then her mind drifted to the possibility of making up after said arguments.

When the making up started to involve lots of kissing, touching, and screams of an entirely different variety, she decided to stop thinking. It wouldn't be good if someone noticed how red her face was.

Still, the thought of marriage stuck for some reason. Her father had joked to Heiji's father about setting the two of them up because it was preferable to having some young punk carry her off. What if it hadn't been a joke?

Kazuha looked down at her half-finished notes. She had zoned out for a fair amount of the lecture. That meant she would have to borrow someone else's notes—probably Heiji's. But not before he gave her as much crap as possible. That was just how Heiji did things.

She tapped her pen against her notebook. Then, taken by a sudden impulse, she bent her head and wrote two words in her notebook; she wrote the words fairly small, so as not to be randomly seen by the idle eyes of her classmates. And she drew a heart around those words, just for good measure, before taking a look at her handiwork.

_Hattori Kazuha._

It was silly, a mere flight of fancy. She should get rid of that page as soon as possible—destroy the evidence, as it were. It was at that moment that the bell rang, signaling the end of class. She would just drop the offending page in the trash can on her way out of the room—

"Oi, Kazuha!" Heiji's voice startled her.

She glared in response. "Ahou, what do you want?"

"You were spacing out all class," he grinned. "You had the dumbest look on your face—"

"Ahou!" she snapped back automatically. "I was not spacing out!"

"Oh? Bet I can prove it," Heiji said.

And in one fast move, too quick for her to react, he snapped the notebook right off her desk.

His intent was undoubtedly to prove his point by the absence of lecture notes—in that case, the proof was right there. Her notes were not complete. Unfortunately, the notebook was still open to the page on which she had impulsively scribbled a secret dream.

_Oh no—_

In a panic, Kazuha reached for the offending notebook, frantic disclaimers already dying on her lips…

Heiji's eyes widened, and the victorious grin dropped off his face.

Kazuha wanted to die. She was mortified—signed, sealed, and delivered.

After a long moment, Heiji turned to look at her. He was obviously bewildered, not that she really blamed him. "Kazuha? What is this?"

For one brief moment of complete insanity, she considered telling him the actual truth. It was the perfect opening to get the whole thing off her chest. But she quickly squashed that notion. They were at school—not the place for such an exchange—and either way, Heiji was not going to react well, she was sure. If he laughed at her…

She looked down at her desk and prepared to tell him part of the truth. "I just wanted to see what it—"

Before she could say 'looked like,' he cut her off with, "Ahou."

Kazuha gaped in amazement as he handed her the notebook and said, "You spelled my name wrong."

* * *

**PS.**_ Oh, Heiji XD Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	65. Out of the Frying Pan

**Title: **Out of the Frying Pan

**Fandom: **Detective Conan

**Characters: **Kaito, Snake (General series)

**Prompt: **#22—enemies

**Word Count: **673 words

**Rating: **PG

**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.

**Summary: **Kaito was aware that he was being followed. But he hadn't planned on this.

It had occurred to Kaito long ago that at some point, Snake would piece together who Kaitou Kid really was. The trigger-happy idiot had been calling him Toichi for quite some time, but it stood to reason that sooner or later it would become clear that he was, in fact, NOT Toichi.

Still, he hadn't really anticipated that Snake would be so glaringly obvious as to follow Kaito out in public like this. Particularly on a class field trip to a local zoo, when Kaito was surrounded by his friends and classmates. Aoko was on one side of him, Hakuba was on the other, and Koizumi was behind him...but he wasn't going to think too closely about what she was doing or looking at.

It could be hazardous.

He did his best to keep up the animated conversation with Aoko and light banter with Hakuba while keeping an eye on the black-clothed form in the tacky hat who kept following them from exhibit to exhibit. It was tiring, really. He just wanted to enjoy himself--while avoiding the aquarium at all costs. But if he was alone, he was an open target. But if Snake made a move while the others were with him...

This was not good. Not good at ALL.

His opportunity to shake their stalker came sooner than he'd anticipated, though. They were wandering through the area where the reptiles and amphibians were housed. He paused at the alligator enclosure, looking down into the pit where the big lizards were housed. But he paused just long enough for his friends to move on, out of sight. And there was no one else around.

When Snake moved, he was ready for it.

Kaito's intention had really been to simply disarm the man, since he was sure to have a weapon of some sort. But something went terribly, terribly wrong in the execution of that plan.

And Snake wound up flipping over the railing...and into the pit.

To be honest, Kaito hadn't known a human being could move that fast. The man was on his feet and up the tree in the middle of the enclosure in record time, staring down at the alligators. The alligators stared back; somehow, Kaito suspected that they saw lunch.

For a moment, Kaito and Snake stared at each other.

Then Kaito frowned. "I don't know who you are, but stop following us!" he said firmly, throwing in more of a pout than Kaitou Kid would have EVER shown. "It's annoying."

"I know who you are--" Snake began.

"...well, you're obviously crazy, so I think I'll just leave now--"

The look on Snake's face was absolutely priceless as he realized that if Kaito walked away, he was stuck there until someone else happened upon him. And the crowds were thinning.

"...if I get someone to get you out of there, will you PLEASE leave us alone?" he asked, glaring with all the force of a teenaged pout. Not that he would have left Snake in there, per se. They might have been enemies, but Kaito certainly didn't want the man to be killed.

Snake glowered at him.

"Kaito? What happen--OH MY GOD!" Aoko's call quickly changed into a cry of shock as she realized that Kaito was staring at a man stuck in the alligator pit. "We need to get help!"

"He's been following us for an hour now," Kaito replied. "I want him to go away."

"YOU'RE KAITOU KID!" Snake finally snapped.

Aoko stared at him, then looked at Kaito (who shrugged and looked genuinely bewildered), then back at Snake. "That's impossible. Kaito was on the other side of town with me during that one Kid heist. It's a proven fact. Now..." she took a step back and grabbed Kaito's arm, "...we'll go get help. You just...wait there." She pulled gently on his arm and murmured, "Crazy man…"

It took everything Kaito had to keep from bursting out laughing at the priceless look on the assassin's face. It made it all worth it.

**PS.** _For __**nezure**__ over on LJ, with a request of Kaito and Snake, and a prompt of "Please do not feed the animals. If you have any suitable food, give it to the guard on duty." This was the result. Partially inspired by a scene in a movie that I saw a really long time ago and can't remember the name of. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	66. The Apartment: Movie Night

**Title: **The Apartment: Movie Night  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#68—lightening  
**Word Count: **1220 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **We'll watch both movies, but I won't like yours. Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

Heiji glared at Kazuha.

Kazuha glared at Heiji.

"I am NOT watching some stupid chick-flick," Heiji growled, gesturing towards the DVD box in Kazuha's hand. On the cover was a man and a young girl in a hat, looking out towards the camera happily. The tagline said something about a life experience becoming a gift. "Not a chance in hell."

"And I am not watching some dumb slasher movie," Kazuha replied coolly, pointing to the DVD Heiji was holding. It featured a lot of dark colors, a picture of a chainsaw, and a girl screaming and just generally looking terrified. It had all the earmarks of a complete gore-fest. "This is why we don't do movie nights very often."

"Why, because you have no taste?" he asked, earning a look that could have killed small animals.

"All right, smartass, how about a compromise?" Kazuha said, folding her arms. "We'll watch them both. Fair?"

He really couldn't argue with that—it was the easiest way to do things. "Fine. We'll watch both movies. But just so you know, I won't like yours." He could barely keep himself from grinning when she gave him an annoyed look, thwapped him soundly on the head and went in search of popcorn.

**_-o-_**

They watched Kazuha's choice first—just to get it out of the way, as Heiji put it. She had rolled her eyes and given him another swat on the head…and told him that he wasn't allowed to have any popcorn. He had, predictably, started to whine and pout. She had ignored him, something she was quite an expert at doing.

The movie itself was one that Kazuha had heard of and which had been recommended to her by a co-worker. She had heard all sorts of wonderful things about it, and wound up borrowing it from one of her friends. It had come with a warning of being a tear-jerker, a message that had caused Heiji to roll his eyes when related.

Kazuha spent much of the movie curled up with her pillow hugged to her chest, watching eagerly at each new development; Heiji sat beside her, silent and more or less ignored. It was, indeed, a wonderful movie, and she made a mental vow to buy her own copy of it after she returned this one. In the meantime, it might merit rewatching.

She was completely spellbound, and before she knew it the movie was almost over. And as the end of the movie drew near, the real heartbreaking moment came. She felt her eyes grow misty at it. How sad…if she wasn't careful, she might start to—

Beside her, there was a loud nasal sound.

It was enough to startle Kazuha out of the spell the movie had woven around her, and she glanced at Heiji. Given how much he had protested this movie, she expected that the sound was him snoring, or perhaps jolting awake again, having slept through half the movie. She really hadn't been paying much attention to him.

She was not expecting to see Heiji staring, wide-eyed, at the screen. His eyes were extremely damp, and there were the telltale marks of tear-tracks on his tanned cheeks. He sniffled, and it matched the sound that had drawn her attention in the first place.

"Heiji…" she said, leaning towards him, "…are you crying?"

He jumped and looked at her. "N-no!" he half-yelped, frantically wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "Of course not, ahou! Why would I be crying? It's just a dumb movie! I just got something in my eye, that's all!" He was babbling and waving his hands frantically.

Kazuha stared at him for a moment…and offered him a tissue without a word. Heiji seemed to wilt as he took it. "Thank you…" he mumbled. He sniffled a few more times before the movie ended and the credits began to roll, but otherwise stayed unusually quiet.

"Well, what did you think?" she asked conversationally, getting up to change the DVDs.

"…it was okay," he replied sullenly. But she knew that to be Heiji-speak for _It was awesome, but I can't admit that I was wrong_. So she simply smiled and said nothing, putting his movie choice in the player.

The movie itself was fairly predictable—teenagers, bent on sex and other such pursuits, unleash an ancient supernatural evil that begins killing everyone in extremely grotesque, creative, and messy ways involving various sharp objects. Lots of fake blood was being thrown about, along with lots of gratuitous cleavage shots.

It didn't take long for Kazuha to figure out exactly why Heiji wanted to watch this movie. But he had watched her choice, and so she was honor-bound to sit through this gore-fest with little complaint. No matter how awful it was.

As the movie wore on, she found herself clinging to her pillow and slowly bringing it further and further in front of her face, as though preparing to hide behind it in case of a major scare. She wasn't a chicken or anything, but this genre of bad slasher film tended to throw in a lot of cheap scares and things to make the audience jump a mile, and for whatever reason, those things tended to get to her.

Unfortunately, this behavior did not go unnoticed. "It's not that scary," Heiji interjected.

"And the other movie was a chick-flick, hanky boy. Now shut up," Kazuha replied, not taking her eyes from the movie. It was nearing the climax. The cleavage-heavy "teenage" heroine in the unbelievably low-cut tank top crept towards the door, not seeing the shadow looming behind her. There was the glint of a knife in the shadow's hand. Kazuha unconsciously leaned forward…

There was a crack of lightning.

Both Heiji and Kazuha jumped off the couch and screamed.

And the power went out.

Including the television screen, where the knife had just been raised above the girl's head.

They stood stone-still for a moment, both glancing around the darkness. Kazuha spoke first. "Well, I…ah…" she cleared her throat. "I think there are some candles in the kitchen, right?" She began to move slowly towards the room, hands groping out in front of her.

"Right," he agreed. "I've got a flashlight in my nightstand…"

A moment later, there was a small amount of light in the apartment. Kazuha busied herself by putting a few candles in jars around the room while Heiji secured another flashlight from a kitchen cabinet. "Damn storm…" Heiji muttered. "Well, guess we'll have to wait until the power comes back to see the end of the movie."

Kazuha glanced at her cell phone. "It's getting late anyway. We should head to bed."

"Right."

"Right."

They stared at each other through the dim light. Both were undoubtedly thinking the same thing, but neither wanted to be the one to give voice to it. That would mean losing face in front of the other, and neither was willing to do that unless there was no other option. So they stood and just looked at each other…

There was a loud creak in the hallway outside their door.

Both turned and looked at their apartment door with wide eyes. Then, as one person and with one voice, they whipped back to each other and blurted out, "Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

* * *

**PS.** _The movie I mentally had in mind for Kazuha's choice was The Ultimate Gift. We watched that for movie day with my middle school students on the last day before Christmas break, and I was surprised at how much I liked it. I was also surprised at how many of the boys in my room were covering their faces to try and not show that they were crying—hence, Heiji's reaction. Wonderful movie. Didn't have a mental picture for Heiji's choice._

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	67. Forced

**Title: **Forced  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Conan/Ai (General series)  
**Prompt: **#70—storm  
**Word Count: **197 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.**  
Summary: **Best to just get this all over with. Conan/Ai

* * *

"Do we have to do this?" Haibara Ai asked, folding her arms.

"Might as well just get it over with," Conan replied. He didn't seem much more pleased at the prospect than she was, though his expression of distaste took the form of the Scary Detective Eyes, whereas hers was in her icy tone of voice.

The scientist sighed. "I just don't see why we have to--"

"If we do it, we can get out of here alive," he pointed out. "So let's just give them what they want and get it over with."

She squared her shoulders and nodded. "All right..."

They leaned towards each other...and kissed. Their lips barely brushed.

From somewhere up in the sky, there was a chorus of squeals, applause, and the thuds of people falling out of their chairs. There was also a clacking storm of sound like thousands of keyboards all being frantically typed on, all at once.

The two shrunken teenagers pulled apart. Haibara looked up. "Is that--"

"Yes, it was," Conan nodded. "The sound of a thousand fangirls keeling over...or typing blog entries. Now let's get out of here before they wake up or notice we're gone."

* * *

**PS.** _Chances are that this is the ONLY Conan/Ai I will ever write, and it was done on a request for **RanMouri82**. The prompt was "Let's just give them what they want." Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	68. Beach Bum

**Title: **Beach Bum  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi/Ran (General series)  
**Prompt: **#51—water  
**Word Count: **371 words  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Ran suggested an afternoon at the beach. Shinichi was not enthused. Shinichi/Ran

* * *

When Ran suggested spending the afternoon at the beach, Shinichi had...really not been terribly pleased. He'd had big plans that afternoon (consisting of the newest novel in a mystery series he had been following religiously for a while now), and he was a little unhappy about those plans being disrupted for a mindless activity like sunbathing.

In the end, though, he really was unable to refuse Ran much of anything. So he did the next best thing: he shoved the book in his bag along with all the necessary beach equipment and jumped in the car.

When they got there, he snagged a spot, set out a chair, and stripped off his shirt. He did noticed several girls, probably in their early teens, watching him with a great amount of interest. Particularly when the shirt came off. Feeling a bit self-conscious (after all, he was both half-naked AND spoken for), he gave them a little wave. They squealed and giggled.

Girls were confusing, he decided, and settled onto the chair with his book. Ran would probably be out soon. She had gone to change into her bathing suit. This way both of them could be happy--she could spend her sunny day at the beach, and he could read his book.

For several moments, all was absolutely great.

Then...

"Shinichi, you did not come all this way just to read a book, did you?" Ran's voice asked from above him.

He didn't look up. "This way we can both be happy."

A T-shirt dropped to the sand by his chair. "All right...if that's what you want."

It occurred to him at that point that he should look up. And blessed be, what a sight met his eyes.

Ran.

In a bikini.

A small bikini that left fairly little to the imagination.

And she really did have a great figure...

...and she was walking away, heading towards the water.

Suddenly, the book didn't seem so interesting. "R-Ran! Wait up!" Shinichi dropped the book on his beach chair and nearly face-planted in the sand in his hurry to catch up to the goddess he was fortunate enough to be dating.

And somehow, he wondered if that hadn't been her intention from the start.

* * *

**PS.** _Written for **magicbulletgirl**, with a prompt of "Shinichi and Ran at the beach. Shinichi has a book." As you can see, I took it fairly literally. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	69. The Benefits of Technology

**Title: **The Benefits of Technology  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Hakuba/Akako (General series)  
**Prompt: **#96—writer's choice  
**Word Count: **198 words  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Hakuba got a very interesting text message. Hakuba/Akako

* * *

_Have you considered getting a web-cam?_

Hakuba stared at the text message for a moment, bewildered. When he realized that it was from Koizumi Akako, he sighed and replied, _No. I have no need for one._

A short while later, a response came: _Oh, I think you want one._

The detective sighed. He'd been fighting off a headache for much of the day, and it was getting worse. Right now there was nothing he'd rather do (save, perhaps, for catching Kaitou Kid) than go home and make a nice cup of tea. Tea had a knack for making everything all better. The strange red-haired girl wasn't making a great deal of sense. _Why would I want one?_

Her answer was simple. _My dear detective, don't you want to see me?_

Repressed as he was, he did have to admit that the girl, though strange, was extremely attractive. _I sense that there is something you are not telling me._

Now her answer was enlightening. _You're right. I haven't told you what I'm wearing._

...suddenly, for inexplicable reasons, Hakuba felt like he should go out and buy a web-cam. And install it immediately. And glue himself to his computer chair.

* * *

**PS.** _Written for Cherry with a prompt of Hakuba/Akako and "Tea makes everything better." I've never written this pairing before, but the crack was just too much to resist. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	70. In the Air

**Title: **In the Air  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi, Yuusaku (General series)  
**Prompt: **#62—spring  
**Word Count: **960 words  
**Rating: **PG-13 (mentions of sex)  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Poor Shinichi. It's tough being twelve years old AND the mature one in the family.

* * *

_I. In which Yuusaku gets owned. Hard._

When his father entered the library, Shinichi moved his eyes to glance briefly in the direction of the door before returning his gaze to the book in his hands. Let dear old dad open whatever conversation he had come here to start. Shinichi's first guess was that Dad was going to tell him to put the book down and go outside. It was a nice spring day, and growing boys needed fresh air.

But when it was silent for a moment, he chanced a second sidelong look and got a better idea of what kind of conversation he was in for. Whatever the topic was, it was probably quite embarrassing. Yuusaku was standing there silently, fidgeting a bit. But finally he spoke up. "Shinichi…son…your mother wanted me to talk to you about sex."

Ah, so that's what it was. Of course his mother had put him up to this. If it was anything even remotely circumspect, Yuusaku would have had to be beaten and forced into it. There was also that oh-so-hilarious suggestion, that inference that at twelve years of age, Shinichi was unaware of the Facts of Life. Unbeknownst to his father, it was something Shinichi had known for ages. It really was common schoolyard knowledge.

But his father looked uncharacteristically nervous. So as Shinichi saw it, he had two options. He could watch his father stumble through this explanation—which would be funny, but plenty embarrassing for the boy of them in the end—or…

Shinichi closed his book, keeping one finger between the pages to mark his place, and looked up at his father. "You want to discuss sex?"

"Yes."

"Okay, Dad. What do you want to know?"

The look on Yuusaku's face was, to say the least, absolutely priceless. His mouth was poised half-open, and he couldn't have looked more stunned if Shinichi had just informed him that he was dating Kaitou Kid. It was easily one of the most entertaining things Shinichi had ever seen.

After a moment of watching the famous novelist open and close his mouth like a halibut caught on a hook, Shinichi piped up again. "I even know some of the things you say during it!"

While Yuusaku stared in horror, Shinichi put one finger to his chin in a gesture of thought and leaned his head back before speaking in a high-pitched voice. "Oh god, oh my god…yes…that's the spot, right th—"

The library door slammed shut. Yuusaku had apparently fled.

Shinichi stared at the door for a moment, then chuckled and went back to his book.

It was a rare day when he was able to one-up his father.

A rare day, indeed.

_II. In which Ran is subjected to total mortification._

Ran came over, at Shinichi's invitation, to watch a move. It was a drab, gray day, perfect for curling up with a warm drink and a good friend to watch a giant lizard stomping Tokyo.

As the afternoon went on, they began to hear sounds. After a while, it became clear that these sounds had nothing at all to do with the movie; they were coming from somewhere inside the Kudo house. And eventually, it got to the point where they couldn't even pretend to ignore the noises. They were even to the point of drowning out the sounds of the big guy knocking over buildings and squishing helpless pedestrians on the screen.

Ran's eyes widened. "I-is that…?" she flushed a bright crimson.

Shinichi frowned. "Oh geez…hang on."

While Ran watched him curiously, he got up and walked through the doorway to stand at the foot of the stairs. He looked up towards the second floor for a moment before cupping his hands around his mouth and calling up, "Hey, Dad! That sound means a little more to the right!"

Silence.

Shinichi smirked and went back to a still-blushing Ran and the movie, where Godzilla was cheerfully destroying a bridge. All was well with the world.

Two days later, there was a knock at the Kudos' front door. Shinichi scampered over to answer, and found a man standing there with a clipboard in his hand. "Can I help you?" the boy asked politely.

The man cleared his throat. "I got a call about soundproofing some walls?"

_III. In which a decision is made._

Yuusaku had intended to spend some "quality time" with Yukiko. He wasn't really the kind to let something like having a son in the house put a damper on things. Especially with their newly-soundproofed walls.

Unfortunately, there was one obstacle to their afternoon of enjoyment.

Namely, the aforementioned son.

Who wasn't going to leave them in peace.

Shinichi insisted on wandering in and out of their bedroom. He was a determined little brat, too—he wasn't letting something as measly as a locked door stop him. Fortunately, they hadn't gotten too far along before he had entered under the pretense of looking for his school notebook. Unable to locate it, he absented himself again, leaving his parents to return to their activities.

They didn't get too far, though, before Shinichi walked back in again. This time, he said he couldn't find his copy of _The Sign of Four._ Not surprisingly, it wasn't there. He left again, but came back far too soon to look for a pen.

…and his headphones.

…and one of his shoes.

…and a misplaced soccer ball.

When Shinichi walked in for probably the eighth time in under ten minutes, Yukiko flopped back to the bed, giving up. Yuusaku, on the other hand, finally snapped and roared at him. "What now?"

Shinichi paused, then grinned. "I forgot."

The next day, Yuusaku and Yukiko announced that they were moving to America come the spring.

* * *

**PS.** _Three short scenes, brought together by a common theme. Many thanks to **Shimegami **for helping with the ideas that went into this. And with this, we have reached seventy. Only thirty left—the number of themes found in your average theme comm. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	71. Confession

**Title: **Confession  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito (General series)  
**Prompt: **#64—fall  
**Word Count: **1007 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **You're the first person I've told about this, Dad.

* * *

Kaito didn't come here often. But when he did, he always brought roses. It was the only thing that seemed truly fitting. They had been his father's trademark, both as a stage magician and in his less-than-legal nighttime occupation. It was even the first trick his father had taught him—the moment his hands were big enough to hold them, he had learned to produce roses from thin air, much to the delight of whoever he happened to present the rose to.

Sometimes he brought red ones, but today he had decided to go with white. Their signature color. A sign of peace. There were any number of reasons.

As he laid them on the grave of Kuroba Toichi, the wind picked up a bit. Kaito stood quickly, tugging at his brown coat to try and stave off the cold a bit. Dry brown leaves blew against his shoes. He nearly lost his dark blue scarf to the gust, but was able to catch it and adjust it around his neck once again, knotting it loosely to secure it there.

It was the stereotypical autumn day: clear, brisk, and windy.

Kaito's hands slid into his pockets as he stepped back. Several of the blowing leaves were crushed under his sneakers, cackling noisily. "Hey, Dad," he started, just like he always did. "Sorry it's been so long. I've been…really busy lately, ya know?"

There was no real need to explain beyond that. If his father was watching over him, as he liked to believe was the case, then he already knew everything. Still, it was nice to talk about some things. Dad was a great listener. He always had been.

"I came today to tell you some good news. I thought you'd like to know that Kaitou Kid retired a few days ago," Kaito said, unable to keep himself from grinning. "The announcement came the day after a really interesting heist. They arrested a couple of really bad characters. Gunmen, from the sounds of it. They were trying to kill Kid…and pretty much everyone else there. Between those arrests and the news of Kid's retirement, the media's been having an absolute field day."

He glanced around to make certain that there was no one else around. The cemetery was void of any living humans today. Given the chill in the air, it wasn't too much of a surprise, but he wanted to make sure before he said anything confidential.

"It's over, Dad," he said, dropping his voice. "I did it. All in one crazy night. It wasn't easy to trap Snake on that rooftop like that, but I pulled it off. You should've heard him scream when he was hauled off in cuffs. Even Nakamori-keibu was wincing at the language."

He looked up towards the sky. It was clear, and very blue. "So I'm done. I fulfilled the promise I made to you. And I'll be bringing you a present soon. It's small and shiny and red." He grinned. "I want to wait until some of the furor dies down before I bring that here to leave with you."

"But it's over. Kaitou Kid is done. And now…" he paused, and his grin softened to a gentle smile. "There's something I need to do now, Dad. I've been waiting for a long time. I didn't want to even try while I was acting as your ghost. But now I can do it. I can really do it. If I did it too soon…well, she hates Kid. And it would just be too risky. I don't want to hurt her."

Kaito sighed. "You probably knew this would happen, didn't you? You were always good at figuring out this kind of thing. But you knew I would fall for Aoko sooner or later, didn't you?" He chuckled. "You knew sooner than I did. But you were right."

He knelt down. "I do love Aoko. And now I can finally do something about it. You're the first and only person I've told so far. But I know you can keep a secret, right?" He reached out with one hand and put it to the stone. "I'm seeing her in a little bit. And I'm going to tell her, no matter how she reacts. I'd be willing to lay money that she swings a mop at my head, but I won't know if I don't try, right?"

"Maybe she'll hate me. Maybe she'll laugh in my face. Heck, maybe she'll even tell me she likes me back," Kaito shrugged. "But I really don't like keeping secrets from her, you know? That's the only thing I ever regretted while I played moonlight shadow. I hated having to lie to Aoko when I knew how much she hated Kid for keeping her dad from her. But she's not the only one with loyalties to her father."

Kaito stood upright again. "Maybe someday I'll be able to tell her the whole story. I'd like that. And maybe she'll understand when I do. Or she might decide she hates me. Or I could become the victim of murder by mop. But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? One step at a time. Tell her first."

He shivered; the wind was growing more bitter as the afternoon started to fade into evening. "I think I should get going. I need to go make sure my nerve is worked up before I meet Aoko. But I'll come back again soon and let you know how it goes." He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I can bring Aoko with me next time. She misses you too, ya know. You were like a second father to her."

Squaring his shoulders, Kaito turned. "Thanks for listening, Dad. It won't be so long until next time. I promise." With a smile, he started to walk back toward the cemetery gate, listening to the sound of the wind and the music of dry leaves crunching and crumbling beneath his shoes.

It was going to be a very interesting night, indeed.

* * *

**PS.** _I think this first appeared in my 1sentence set. I just liked this little scene, that's all. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	72. Not Quite Family

**Title: **Not Quite Family  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Agasa, Shinichi (General series)  
**Prompt: **#24—family  
**Word Count: **2910 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **The first time they met, Kudo Shinichi was six days old. An Agasa fic.

* * *

Having known the Kudo family for a fair amount of time, Agasa Hiroshi was none too surprised when he was invited over to meet the newest addition to the family. He had been well aware that they had gone to the hospital and delivered the baby; the new father had called him with a certain degree of restrained sheepishness to ask the indulgent neighbor to please lock their front door, as they had forgotten to.

He immediately went next door and met his friends.

To say that Yukiko looked exhausted was a vast understatement. Her eyes had lost a little bit of their usual light, and she was pale. Even her hair was a bit lackluster. Still, she gave him one of her trademark dazzling smiles. She was worn and making an adjustment, but she was handling it relatively well.

The same, however, could not be said for the new father. Yuusaku couldn't even muster up a convincing smile. He simply gave the doctor a wry look and muttered something to the effect of 'that thing needs an off-switch.' It seemed that the world renowned author was going to need some time to adjust to his role as the father of a newborn, and all the sleep deprivation that went with it.

That was when he first met Kudo Shinichi, who was the ripe old age of six days old.

At first glance, Agasa privately thought that Shinichi looked like his mother. But when the baby yawned and opened his eyes for a brief second, he saw that they were the exact same shade of blue as Yuusaku's. In short, it wasn't at all difficult to see the physical influences of both his parents in the infant. It seemed to go without saying that little Shinichi had really won the genetic lottery in regards to physical appearances.

This was a kid who would probably break hearts someday.

If he had half their collective intelligence, he was also going to be an intellectual force to be reckoned with. And if he had some of his parents' more, ah, interesting personality traits…

This was a kid who would probably get in trouble. Lots and lots of trouble now and then.

And somehow, holding the infant and chatting with the new parents, Agasa couldn't help but wonder just how much of that trouble he was going to get wrapped up in. It could be fun…

**_-o-_**

Shinichi brought a friend over to play before school one morning.

Her name was Mouri Ran, Shinichi said imperiously in a perfect imitation of Yuusaku at his most arrogant. He was in preschool, and he was already showing the signs. And he kept talking. Ran's father was a police officer and her mother was a lawyer and their parents were old friends…

Ran herself was happy and eager to see the laboratory. Shinichi had described it to her, she said. He said it was an amazing place. Agasa was beaming with pride at that until she asked him when something was going to blow up. Shinichi had told her that there were always explosions over here, and that they looked and sounded really cool.

The good doctor sighed and resisted the friendly urge to strangle the neighbor's son. Somehow, he thought that might put a bit of a strain on his relationship with the Kudo family. Instead, he happily showed Ran around the lab, ignoring Shinichi's comments.

By the end of the tour, Agasa had decided that he liked the sweet little girl...who promptly got into an argument with Shinichi. And by the time the two of them scampered out, heading off to school, Agasa was pretty sure of a few other things as well.

**_-o-_**

They were going on an adventure today.

Agasa had been awakened by a secretive phone call from Kudo Shinichi. The seven-year-old seemed very furtive about the whole thing, whispering over the phone and asking if Agasa could drive him and Ran around for a while. They had a code to solve, and needed a little help. He seemed adamant that his parents, and particularly his father, should not know about this.

The doctor agreed to help and hung up the phone, privately thinking that if this turned out to be a serious situation of any kind, he would alert Yuusaku and Yukiko later. In the meantime, he was perfectly capable of keeping track of the kids. If things got dangerous, then he would pull the plug.

He was a bit alarmed when he heard the story, though. A mysterious, threatening figure who saw fit to call children out to a school library in the middle of the night to deliver ridiculously difficult codes? It did not sit well with Agasa, and he said so. But again, Shinichi was adamant. They could call the police later if need be. He was determined to solve the code himself.

Agasa couldn't help but chuckle at the boy's determination. He had his father's love of all things puzzling and challenging, and had that signature sparkle of his mother's while he was going at it.

It was all too easy, Agasa realized, to align that kid with his family's influence.

In the end, he went along with it. Shinichi was a sharp kid, and he did have a point. If things got dangerous or went out of control, then they would call the police about it. There was no harm in playing this game for a little while.

And besides, it was nice to see Shinichi and Ran spending time together again. He hadn't seen the two of them in each other's company in quite a while. But Shinichi was…well, cold was the best word Agasa could come up with on the spot. And poor Ran didn't seem to understand it anymore than the doctor did. But she smiled and went along without complaint.

When Shinichi called her Mouri, Agasa was actually stunned speechless. Still, Ran just smiled and said nothing until they'd reached the end of the treasure hunt and were up on a rooftop, overlooking a particularly beautiful sunset. Then she exploded, asking him to call her Ran again.

Thus, Agasa became a silent witness to Shinichi's blushing agreement to call Ran by her first name, and the resulting hug. He couldn't help but chuckle at the look on Shinichi's face. Poor boy was flustered. It was remarkably similar to the effect Yukiko had on Yuusaku; she was more or less the only person who could throw the novelist completely off-balance.

Another little milestone in Shinichi's young life had been passed: the realization that it was okay to be friends with a girl. The doctor was amused. He had the distinct feeling that Ran was going to be keeping Shinichi in line for a very long time.

After it was all over, he took Ran home. She was yawning as she climbed out of the car, earning a jibe from Shinichi. She glared and bid Agasa a good night before closing the car door and heading into the building. Once she was safely inside, he pulled away from the curb to head back towards their homes.

He realized that Shinichi had gone very quiet in the backseat. A glance in the rearview mirror proved that the boy was sitting with his head down and leaning to the side, his eyes closed, face expressionless.

Again, Agasa chuckled. After all that teasing of poor Ran over a little yawn, Shinichi had the nerve to go and fall asleep in the back seat of Agasa's car. What a little tough guy.

He parked the car at his house and carried Shinichi next door. The kid barely even stirred as he was first lifted from the car, and then carried next door and handed over to his amused parents. When Yukiko asked him what they had all been up to all day, Agasa just smiled and said that they'd gone on an adventure around the city.

He also conveniently left out the little moment between Ran and Shinichi on that rooftop.

**_-o-_**

Kudo Shinichi, age fourteen (and a half), was spending a lot of time at Agasa's house as of late.

When he noticed that doctor's curious look as the teenager appeared on his doorstep yet again, he said that he was bored at home and was wondering what the old doc was up to and would this one explode as nicely as the last one had?

Agasa didn't press the issue; he was sure he knew the real reason for this sudden spike in alleged interest in his experiments. But as he had done with many things regarding the neighbor boy over the years they had known each other, he kept it under his hat. He simply gave Shinichi a gentle thwap on the head with a convenient manila folder and went about business as usual.

His suspicions were confirmed one afternoon when Shinichi again came over after school. He was carrying his school satchel, which suggested that he hadn't even gone home, but had come straight here. Agasa again made no comment, but went in search of tea.

When he came back with the tray, he saw Shinichi sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. He wore the single most forlorn look the doctor had ever seen on his face. He looked…

Lonely.

Then again, any child would be lonely after their parents had moved to another country.

And contrary to what Shinichi tried to tell him, someone at fourteen years of age was still a child.

But he wouldn't have let anyone see it; if he knew that Agasa was watching, he would never have let that expression rest on his face. He was his father's son in that respect: too confident to admit to weakness, and too proud to ask for help. Instead, he came over as often as he thought he could get away with not necessarily because he was interested in what the doctor was doing, but because the doctor was there, period.

And chances were that when Shinichi wasn't loitering around the lab, feigning interest in the various experiments and tests, he was trailing after Ran for the exact same reason.

Far be it for him to tell his friends how to raise their child. Lord knew he was a bachelor and certainly not a parent. But he had to wonder if Shinichi had been truthful in regards to his feelings about their move. It might not have changed their plans, but conversations with Yukiko had made it seem like he was fine with it. That was obviously not the case.

Not that there was much he could do now…

To save the lad embarrassment, he stepped back from the door and coughed loudly before entering. As he had expected, Shinichi had rapidly changed position. Where he had been curled up a moment before, he was now lounging in a typical teenaged fashion. Where his expression had been so lost and alone, he now wore a careful blend of boredom and alertness.

Still, Agasa felt like he should say something. As he set the tray down, he made a comment to the effect that if his parents had moved when he was Shinichi's age, he would have been very lonely. And that it would be okay to feel that way in that situation.

Shinichi's face was stony for a moment after that statement. Then he sighed and murmured a thank you as a flicker of that loneliness again revealed itself. He immediately buried his nose in his teacup to hide any further facial expression.

Agasa nodded and replied that Shinichi was welcome here any time.

…and he couldn't help but add that Ran was also welcome any time. The resulting sputtering disclaimer and accompanying blush were both absolutely priceless.

**_-o-_**

It was ludicrous, but seemingly true. The little boy had more or less proven that he was Kudo Shinichi.

But Kudo Shinichi was seventeen years old, and the child currently standing on the sidewalk in front of him, wearing clothes that were far too large…well, the kid looked to be about seven or eight. A full decade too young to be who he was claiming to be.

Yet he had rattled off several facts that only Shinichi would know, and to add icing on the cake, he had also announced everything the doctor had done that evening based solely on the trace evidence on the doctor's face and clothing. Doing things like that…it was practically a Shinichi trademark.

And so he was convinced, improbably as it all seemed. He helped the child into the Kudo house, listening to the incredible story. And he impressed on Shinichi the need for secrecy. It seemed to him that those men wanted Shinichi dead to keep him from revealing what he had seen, and so if they realized that they had failed once, they might come back to try again.

When Ran appeared, Agasa made a quick decision amidst the momentary panic, and set Shinichi up for what was probably simultaneously the best and worst time of his life. Shinichi, now under the unlikely alias of Edogawa Conan, was going to go live with Ran and her father while he searched for the men in black and a way to return to his normal self.

He waved them off with a smile. As soon as they were out of sight, he sighed and looked up towards the heavens, seeking some unknown answer from a deity that didn't seem interested in answering him. It seemed that they were in for yet another adventure.

Life around Kudo Shinichi was many things, but it was certainly never boring.

**_-o-_**

With the fall of the Black Organization and the return of Kudo Shinichi (and the related disappearance of Edogawa Conan), Agasa found that he saw a good deal less of his neighbor. It was not altogether a surprising development. The kid had a second chance at a few things, and he was taking them.

Mouri Ran was the most prevalent of those second chances, and it seemed that they were spending a great deal of time together. A chance run-in with Megure-keibu at the grocery store had revealed that there were a good many rumors spreading about the young couple and the possibility of wedding bells being heard in the near future.

If that was true, then Shinichi really wasn't wasting anymore time. Good for him.

It wasn't that Agasa was lonely. Ai had remained in her childhood form, still living there with him. The children were frequent visitors as well, and they still enjoyed roping him into all sorts of adventures. There was plenty of conversation and laughter in the house, as well as the quieter moments between him and the girl he had essentially adopted as a daughter.

But he did miss Shinichi and their conversations on occasion. Still, Shinichi had his own life, and since he had been able to return to that life, he had thrown himself into it. He had even started playing soccer again, and Agasa had snuck out to watch one of his games. Shinichi was still as good as ever on the field.

Many months after Shinichi's return, the doorbell rang. And it was Shinichi, standing on the doorstep with two decorated envelopes. He was grinning, and said that he thought it would be best if he delivered these two things in person.

The first was an invitation to Tantei High School's graduation ceremony. That was actually a relief to see. It had been a source of stress and worry as to whether or not Shinichi would be able to catch up in school and graduate with the rest of his class, and it seemed that he had managed the seemingly insurmountable task.

The second was a wedding invitation.

Shinichi was grinning, and said that he hoped Agasa could make it to both.

They talked for a little while longer, standing on the doorstep of Agasa's home. Shinichi declined to come inside, and after a short time he glanced at his watch and said that he needed to get going. He was due to meet Ran (now his fiancé) soon.

As he started to leave, he paused, and glanced back, and said two words.

_Thank you._

And then he was gone. But there really was no need to elaborate on the statement.

Agasa knew what he meant.

**_-o-_**

Agasa Hiroshi had known the Kudo family for a very long time. He was almost a part of the family, really. The crazy uncle who always had the best (if slightly dangerous) toys. And he had lived next door to the Kudos for many, many years.

So he was none too surprised when he got a call to come over and meet the newest member of the family. He went next door immediately. Shinichi met him at the door and ushered him inside, where Ran was sitting with a very young child in her arms. She smiled up at the old doctor when he came in, and handed him the blanket-wrapped bundle.

Kudo Conan. One week old.

Agasa looked down at the baby, and he smiled. He certainly wasn't getting any younger, but he was fairly sure that he had enough left him in to handle the adventures of one more child. If Conan was even half the handful his father was…

This was going to be fun.

* * *

**PS.** _There aren't many Agasa fics out there, I've realized. And as I am a sucker for underappreciated characters and relationships, I present this. Because Agasa REALLY does a lot for Shinichi. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	73. Ivories

**Title: **Ivories  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito/Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#61—winter  
**Word Count: **1998 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **I wish she would start playing again. I miss listening to it… Kaito/Aoko

* * *

"So what's the plan for this afternoon?" Kaito asked as they walked towards the stairs. School was out, and he was on his way out of there with Aoko and Hakuba—Aoko had invited the detective along, and Kaito had agreed with no issues. After all, having Hakuba around meant that he had two people to tease instead of just one, and that was double the fun for his money!

"I vote ice cream," Aoko offered. This was a well-received suggestion, and thus the plan was formed.

But at the top of the staircase, Hakuba paused and looked towards an open classroom door, a room he was not familiar with. "What's in there?"

Aoko took a look. "Oh—that's the music room."

"I haven't seen it," he commented. "Is it all right if we go in?"

It apparently was, for they wandered in. The room was empty; no one was practicing there. There was a piano in the middle of the room, and various pieces of sheet music and other paraphernalia were scattered about. It looked relatively normal, all things considered.

Aoko walked in and strolled over to the piano. "I haven't been in here in a long time, actually," she commented. One of her hands reached down and touched the uncovered piano keys, dragging across the smooth white surface.

Hakuba watched curiously as she ran her fingers over the 'ivories,' as piano keys were sometimes called, and asked, "Aoko-san? Do you play the piano?" She had never mentioned it, but she seemed familiar with such a motion…

To his surprise, she jumped—and shook her head quickly. "No—no, I don't. I used to, but…I don't." She closed the piano lid with a loud thunk and hurried to the door, grabbing her bag on the way.

"Aoko, wait!" Kaito called after her, but she was already out the door.

Hakuba turned to his classmate, concerned. "Did I say something wrong?"

Kaito shook his head. "Not really, no. But…well, Aoko used to play the piano."

"She did?" Hakuba was reasonably surprised. "I did not know that."

"Not many people do. That's because she hasn't played in years," Kaito explained, wandering over to stand by the piano. He lifted the lid with one hand and touched the keys. "Not since her mother died."

"Oh…"

Kaito pressed one key, and the note sounded into the otherwise-quiet room. "When Aoko's mom got sick, at first things weren't too bad—there were treatments, but she kept up with everything. But after a while she got so sick that she couldn't even climb the stairs on her own. So she spent a lot of time on the couch in the living room—which was conveniently near the piano. Aoko would hurry home after school every day to help out around the house…and she would play the piano for her mother."

He could remember those afternoons, sprawled on the floor of her living room, listening to the strains of music drift through the house. His favorite was always "The Entertainer." Aoko's mother was sitting above him, the window behind her. She was smiling as she listened to her daughter play, though her smile had grown sadder and sadder every time he saw her.

"Eventually things took a turn for the worst," he went on. "And she lost the battle. We were eleven when her mom died. And Aoko hasn't played the piano since. Not a note."

Hakuba's eyes were wide. "I had no idea."

Kaito nodded. "It seemed like a very long winter that year…" He remembered standing out in the snow with his mother at the funeral. Aoko stood with her father; she had been crying a lot, and he hadn't known what to do to make it better. None of the usual things worked. Granted, he knew all too well how it felt to lose a parent, and how hard it was to smile afterwards…

It had been a long time before she had started to act like herself again. His memory of the first time she had smiled after her mother's death was especially clear. But she rarely talked about her mom.

"…Kuroba?"

He gave himself a shake and threw Hakuba a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Got lost in a memory." He sighed. "But I really wish she would start playing again. I miss listening to it…she was really good."

The conversation ended when they heard a sound from the door, like someone clearing their throat. They turned; Aoko was standing there, looking faintly uncomfortable. "Are we going for ice cream?" she asked softly.

Kaito was immediately all smiles. "I want chocolate!" His cheer seemed to relax her, and the three made their way down the stairs and out of the school in search of frozen goodies. Not another word was said between them about the incident in the music room over their sundaes.

**_-o-_**

After saying goodbye to Hakuba, Kaito and Aoko made their way towards their own homes. It was getting dark, and so Kaito was playing the gentleman and making sure she got home safely before he headed to his own house.

Kaito had waited until they were alone to ask. "So…how long were you outside the music room?"

Aoko's smile faded a bit. "Long enough to get the picture." She looked away. "You told him?"

"Was that bad? I didn't think it was a secret or anything…" he said. Suddenly he was worried that he might have overstepped a boundary. He certainly hadn't intended to do so. He hadn't thought that it was a completely taboo topic—it was just something that they rarely talked about, for obvious reasons.

"No, no," Aoko waved a hand. "I guess he just caught me off-guard, and I overreacted. If anything, I'm sort of glad you told him. Means that I didn't have to." She let out a little laugh that somehow sounded very sad.

"Aoko…have you thought about starting to play the piano again?" Kaito asked perhaps a little too casually, swinging his school bag behind his head and holding onto it with both hands.

"Why would I do that?" she asked just as casually; her posture grew a bit more tense. "I haven't played in so long. I'm way out of practice. It would sound horrible. Why would I subject anyone to that?"

"Because it's been a long time…and you were really, really good at it," he replied; with every sentence that passed between them, his impression that he was touching on something very, very bad grew. "And I miss hearing you play. I liked listening to it."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't play anymore!" she snapped, suddenly irate. "It's in the past, now leave it be!" She stormed ahead, her empty hand balling into a fist at her side.

Kaito trailed behind for a few moments, then quickened his pace to catch up, slowing down again when his stride and hers matched. "I'm sorry…but I'm not," he said. "I'm sorry that I keep poking at a touchy subject…but I'm not sorry because it makes me sort of sad that you gave it up."

"You know why I stopped playing," she said, her anger gone; it had been replaced by sadness.

"I do."

Aoko looked up towards the darkening sky and sighed. "You know…it always amazed me that you could keep doing your magic after your father died. I couldn't figure out how or why you managed. I guess I would have thought it would be too painful."

"It did hurt for a while," he said. "Even that trick I always do for you, with the rose…" He pulled a rose out of thin air and handed it to her, "…took me a long time before I could even manage that much."

Even after years of seeing that trick and being presented with the flower, she still blushed at the rose. "But you did it." She studied the delicate petals. "You're just that much stronger than me."

"There are different types of strength, Aoko. Yours isn't any less than mine. Just different."

They were heading up the sidewalk towards her house. The absence of a car in the driveway meant that the place was probably empty, and there was no harm in him hanging around for a little while. Aoko unlocked the door and stepped aside to let him in before she closed the door behind him and locked it. When she turned back from the door, Kaito was standing very close to her, his hands in his pockets.

"K-Kaito?" she pressed back against the door, eyes widening in surprise.

"You loved music. You still do. Just like how I am with magic," he said softly. He was rarely this serious, and when he was, it was impossible to give him anything less than one's undivided attention. "I think you're still a little scared of the memories it might bring back. But when Dad and I would practice magic together…those were the moments when we were closest. I think it's the same for you. Playing the piano for your mother while she was sick…you did it to make her happy. It kept you close to her."

He reached up and brushed a stray strand of her bangs aside. "Whatever happens, you won't know unless you give it a try, will you?" He straightened, a shadow of his normal smile securely back on his face. "I'm going to go find something edible. Then…maybe study?"

Aoko nodded, and watched while he bounced away. He knew his way around the place; he would rustle something up, no problem. But his words were still running through her head, especially the part about feeling closer to her mother through her music. It was true, but…

The music had left her when her mother had died.

…or had it?

For the first time in many years, her fingers were itching to feel the ivories beneath them.

Slowly, like one in a trance, Aoko walked to the old piano. It still stood there, just as it always had. She wondered if her father had kept it all this time in the hopes that she would start playing again. With shaky hands, she lifted the lid. It had been so long…the instrument would be horrendously out of tune, and if anything played on it sounded even remotely like a melody, it would be a miracle…

She sank onto the piano bench. Her fingers traced over the keys. Middle C was always so easy to find: go to the first letter of the manufacturer's name on the front, and go down from that to the white key set beside the two black keys. On a whim, she pressed the key, and listened to the sound.

…she wasn't going to be able to play anything of any actual worth on this, would she? Certainly not after so much time, unless her muscles had exceptionally good memory. But…what was the piece she had played so often…the one Kaito had always liked so much…

Aoko glanced through the music inside the bench, and found the song she was trying to remember. It was an American piece, very pleasant to listen to, called "The Entertainer." Kaito had always pestered her to play that one. He said he liked the sound of it; it made him think of a circus performance.

The music was old and worn, but still very legible, and she set it on the piano and stared at it for a moment before lowering her hands to the keys, slowly trying to find each of the notes in the first chord. This was a fool's errand, but somehow…

_"It kept you close to her."_

Maybe Mom would help her…

**_-o-_**

In the kitchen, Kaito was just pouring two mugs of tea when he heard the piano start to play a familiar melody. He stopped to listen, already feeling himself smile at the sound of it. There was an error, a pause, another false start and another pause, and then…

Music.

* * *

**PS.** _Rationale for this was that Kaito and Akako both have magic, Hakuba has mysteries (and falconry), Shinichi has soccer, Heiji has kendo, Ran has karate, and Kazuha has aikido. Of all the DC/MK characters, it seems like Aoko's the only one without a special talent or activity (unless you count her trusty mop). So…I decided to give her music, since no one in this series seems to do it. Hope it came across as believable. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	74. Where Light and Shadow Meet

**Title: **Where Light and Shadow Meet  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kid/Shinichi (General series)  
**Prompt: **#45—moon  
**Word Count: **1679 words  
**Rating: R (to be safe—for allusions to sex)**  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **They were light and dark, unable to meet anywhere else. Kid/Shinichi

* * *

There had always been something enchanting about moonlight.

Poets lauded it as romantic and mysterious. Artists tried to capture its luminous essence in oil and watercolors. Novelists attempted to document the secretive doings that went on beneath its watchful eye. Musicians sang its praises. And ordinary people looked up to the moon, trying to see past the glow and find deeper mysteries and answers within its simple silver beauty.

And it bore witness to events both natural and supernatural, often the only entity to see such things as they happened beneath the cover of darkness. It was the criminal's ideal eyewitness as well: it saw all, but remained silent, never revealing the details of the sights it had seen.

It was before the moon's eyes that they met.

The first time they had met like this, it had been through a twist of fate and nothing more. Those who shied away from the moon and embraced the cloudy darkness of shadows had appeared at the Kaitou Kid's heist, and a lone detective had nearly been caught in the crossfire. Quick thinking and even quicker acting had saved them both and hidden them from harm.

The moments spent in hiding seemed to stretch into hours, and their quarters were close. The tension was electrifying, a powder keg in want of a spark to light it. It only took one slip of a nervous hand, brushing somewhere sensitive, to start it all.

A moan, muffled by a hand.

A hand, replaced by a mouth.

A groan, echoing into a mouth.

A hand, venturing further.

They remained where they were long after the danger had passed. When they did emerge, they were both mussed and decidedly red-faced. They bid each other a goodnight, one more awkwardly than the other, and the thief vanished into the night, seemingly disappearing to a space that lay between the moonbeams and the stars, where no one would ever find him.

Such was his way.

He left a startled, confused detective behind on the roof to smooth his dark hair and straighten his favorite blue suit and wonder what had just happened as he made his own way home, alone.

The papers the next day heralded an article, quoting Kudo Shinichi. The detective said that there had been signs of shooters on a nearby rooftop, and he had been forced to hide. By the time it had been safe for him to emerge from his hiding place, Kaitou Kid had escaped. He had not had an opportunity to apprehend the thief due to the aforementioned circumstances, the detective said, but would not fail the next time they faced each other.

Sitting at his own breakfast table, enjoying a morning cup of tea, Kuroba Kaito was started, but not entirely curious as to why his rival and pursuer would lie to that extent. There had been ample opportunity for the detective to catch Kid. He had just let himself be distracted by something else at the time, something far more pleasurable.

Kudo Shinichi did not appear at the next heist, but he was at the one following that. He managed to track Kaitou Kid all the way up to a secluded rooftop, where he called for surrender.

Emboldened by their last encounter, Kid replied by calling for Kudo's surrender. Then he kissed him.

This time he was far more forward about what he wanted. Pinning the detective back to the wall, he made quick work of his pants and began to stroke and fondle. Kudo's whimpers of weak protest soon became whimpers of another kind entirely.

The meetings became a regular part of heists. Kudo Shinichi found reasons to be there, and detective and thief would manage to find each other in some secluded place. There was a pull there, a strange magnetism that inevitably led them to one another. And those trysts were usually short, but passionate, and they frequently saw fireworks amidst the starlight.

As time passed, they grew more adventurous. Touches gave way to brushes with lips and probing with fingers in new places. Kid took to blindfolding Kudo to protect his own identity before teasing. There was something deeply satisfying about hearing the dignified detective reduced to whimpering and begging for sweet, sweet release while the criminal he was chasing teased him to the peak with the use of a mouth that could imitate any voice, and a tongue that was far too talented.

He was able to coax the detective into things as well, though he never forced anything. Kudo willingly pleased him with his own mouth, taking his cues from what Kid had done and adding his own nervous inventions. The result was intense, though Kid did apologize when he came in Kudo's mouth and nearly choked the poor boy, who wasn't ready for it.

The first time he had Kudo, they were in an empty office—not the ideal quarters for such an act, but far nicer than many places they had been before. He reeled Kudo down to lay on the desk, and he took him as gently as possible, though he still had to stop at Kudo's pained cry. Gentle lips kissed the tears away, and soon he was enjoying the full pleasures of that beautiful body.

But he was a fair thief. After Kudo had recovered, Kid returned the favor. He was stunned at how much it did hurt, but he was determined that pleasure be shared, and he rode it out to find the pleasure for both of them. It was an extraordinary night, and it lingered with him, staying in his dreams and carrying into the following days.

And there were kisses, before and after and during, always kisses. In some ways, the kisses were the best part of it all because Kid could look directly at Kudo, seeing the moonlight catch those blue eyes and turn them silver, embodiments of the moon itself.

After all, the moon was the only witness to a crime of lust committed in the shade, away from all other eyes. It was the only time when they could meet, in that quiet place between light and shadows. The moon was the only witness to an affair that both clung to desperately, yet could not take out of that darkened place. It was condemned, doomed to remain hidden where light and shadow met. To do otherwise required a courage that neither believed he yet possessed.

As it went on, Kid was startled at how guilty he felt over aspects of it. He was certainly not the worst kind of person there was, but he was no angel. He had done a good many things wrong in his life, some worse than others. He could lift a jewel without so much as a tremble to his hand. Whatever misgivings he might have about being a lover, he masked them well.

But Kudo…the detective was an innocent. Brilliant, but naïve in certain matters. As sweet as honey and yet as fiery as cinnamon. Bold in deduction and casework. Shy in touches and caresses, though his confidence grew with each encounter and each new experience. Nervous about their meetings and trysts, yet so eager to please and be pleased. The innocent eagerness and natural shyness about such things drove the thief nearly insane with desire. He wanted more of it.

And somehow, that was starting to get to Kid. Meeting in dark corners and alleyways, rough fumblings with hurried hands, quick moments where he pressed the detective back to the wall and took what he wanted for a simple lack of patience…

Kudo deserved so much better than that, though the detective never complained. He deserved more than rough quickies against an alley wall and one-night stands on a skyscraper roof while police choppers scoured the air a hundred meters away.

The idea made the thief wonder what he could do…and why he felt that way. It took him a good while to figure out why thinking of the detective made him react so strongly. And it took him even longer to fully accept what he thought and what he felt. He tried to rationalize it, but was unable to.

Still, it was not possible. They were still polar opposites, he of the dark and Kudo of the light—or was it the other way around? He had never been entirely sure. But they were light and dark, and so it seemed that they could only meet in shadow and twilight. Nothing more.

And then there were new developments, and a series of events happening in rapid succession.

And the news finally came…

**_-o-_**

Kaitou Kid was retiring. He was hanging up his hat, cape, and monocle. There would be no more heists.

The reactions ranged from angry explosions to murmurs of relief, and everything in between.

For his part, Kudo Shinichi was quiet on the matter. He couldn't help but wonder why the thief would call it quits like this. It didn't make sense to him. And a small part of him ached at the thought that he might not see the man again. It was ludicrous—Kid was a criminal, and Shinichi was a detective.

But still…

He sighed and set the newspaper aside, trying to figure out exactly how he felt about the whole matter. And as he sat there contemplating it, he became aware of a shadow over him. A glance up revealed a young man, approximately his own age, standing beside him.

Shinichi studied the face, trying to ascertain why it seemed so familiar.

And then the young man spoke, a voice that Shinichi had heard so many times, usually as a murmur in his ear or a soft moan of encouragement; he knew that voice immediately, but the person he knew it to belong to was one who wore white and only came to him on certain nights to lead him through the moonlight and make him see stars.

The young man with that melodious voice introduced himself as Kuroba Kaito…

And asked if he could sit down.

* * *

**PS.** _Dedicated with love to **Shimegami**. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	75. The Apartment: Building Up

**Title: **The Apartment: Building Up  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#14—green  
**Word Count: **7922 words  
**Rating: R (for sexuality)**  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Heiji mentioned that he missed waking up next to her…

* * *

Overall, Heiji was a relatively happy person; he really had a lot going for him. He came from a good family (even though he and his father did still manage to get into regular shouting matches over various things). He had great friends. He had a reputation as being the best detective in Osaka and as such made a fairly tidy living. He had a nice home to come back to at the end of the day.

And he had his special someone. Life was wonderful. He truly couldn't complain.

But lately, certain things had been gnawing at his brain regarding his special someone.

Oh, he had tried to ignore those niggling little thoughts. But they refused to be brushed aside, and so renewed their relentless assault on his consciousness. As days went bye, he found himself thinking certain thoughts more and more often, often with a much greater intensity than he was personally comfortable with.

Even murders couldn't distract him from those ideas. Such was the case when he came home one afternoon from a case, still thinking about Certain Things…and there she was, just sitting on the kitchen counter…finishing off an ice cream cone, of all things.

"Welcome back!" Kazuha cheered as he came in.

"Hey…" he walked over and just watched her. He swallowed hard as she lapped up the last traces of vanilla and then bite into the sugary brown cone. It didn't take her long to finish.

She had gotten to the very last bite before she realized that she had an audience. When she looked up at him, she had the very end of the round ice cream cone sticking out of her mouth. "Hmm?" she murmured around it, giving him a wide-eyed, questioning look.

Added to the fact that she was still in pajamas that were three sizes too large for her, and it all added up to being so adorable that Heiji could barely stand it. It didn't help any that she was wearing pajamas, period—his brain started making some rather questionable suggestions, heedless of the fact that acting on any of those suggestions would undoubtedly get him killed, revived, and killed again. But he couldn't stop himself from thinking them.

From thinking that they had been together for quite a while.

From remembering a certain morning…

Before he realized what he was doing, he had crossed the kitchen and put his hands on the counter, one on either side of her. And he leaned in and kissed her a lot more fiercely than he usually did. He could taste the vanilla on her lips and tongue. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. It was all enough to leave them both breathless.

When he pulled away, she stared at him for a moment. "Wow…what brought that on?"

He cleared his throat. Maybe there was a way to put this that would at least get it out into the open and not result in him kissing a few of his limbs goodbye. "I've been thinking lately…" he began slowly. "Remember when you first came back to Japan? That very first morning?"

"Yes…" she said softly.

"Well…I sort of miss that feeling," he said. "I mean—that morning when I woke up and you were there next to me? That was awesome. I liked that." It wasn't exactly what he was trying to say, but it was close. Sort of.

Kazuha blinked owlishly at him. "You…miss that?"

"…yeah. I do."

She looked bewildered. "Waking up next to me?"

"…yes," he fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I see…" Kazuha now looked thoughtful, and he wondered if she'd guessed what he was really trying to say. She certainly wasn't stupid, and he definitely wasn't being a very good ninja about this.

It was then that he realized he still had her trapped against the counter, one of his hands on either side of her. He was sorely tempted to kiss her again, but given the awkward conversation that had just taken place, he decided against it. Instead, he pushed away from the counter and took a couple of steps backwards, away from her. "Sorry…" he murmured before making a hasty exit to the safety of his own bedroom.

Kazuha was left sitting on the counter. And she was thinking…

**_-o-_**

Three hours later, Heiji was preparing for bed. He was also still kicking himself for saying anything. She probably thought he was a complete moron now—granted, she might very well have thought that before, but now he had confirmed it. And he hadn't even actually managed to say what was on his mind.

He had ventured out of his room in search of something to eat, and found Kazuha was not in sight. Judging by the fact that her bedroom door was closed, he assumed she was in there and not eager for company. He took this as a sure sign that he had damaged things somehow.

He sighed and grabbed the oversized T-shirt he was using as the top half of his pajamas. Yanking it over his head, he decided to try and stop thinking about it. Things would hopefully be back to some sort of normalcy by the next morning. Kazuha could have quite a temper, but usually she didn't hold onto grudges or anything like that for too long. Breakfast would tell.

The bed was already turned down, and he flopped down onto it without even bothering to crawl under the blankets. Between the murder case and making a complete ass of himself in front of Kazuha, he was worn out. But just as he was about to turn off the lights and officially go to bed, there was a knock on his bedroom door.

Well, there was only one person that could be. "Come in!" he called.

Sure enough, it was Kazuha. She was still wearing her pajamas and carrying…a pillow? "Hi!" she said cheerfully.

"What are you doing?" he watched in confusion as she crossed the room and hopped onto the bed.

"Well, you said that you missed waking up next to me. So since you can't seem to bear being away from me even long enough to sleep," she teased, grinning at the fact that he turned slightly pink, "I decided to come in here." She tossed one of the pillows from his bed and replaced it with her own.

He stared as she arranged her pillow and the blankets and crawled into bed, pulling the sheets up around her. "I…err…what?" Heiji stammered. She had to be joking. There was no way she was serious…

"It's a slumber party!" she cheered, scooting down to lay under the blankets. It was only then that she seemed to notice his scrutiny. "What? Is something wrong?"

"No! Nothing!" Heiji quickly clamped himself back under control. "I mean…if you want to sleep in here, that's fine with me." It was pretty clear that she wasn't actually thinking of doing anything; she was completely serious and honest when she said that they were going to have a slumber party and she was going to sleep in here.

Though he had to admit that Kazuha sleeping in his bed was amazing under any circumstances. Well…except possibly for the ones that had brought her home. But that was a special case by definition. But the point was that she was currently curled up in his bed with the intention of sleeping there.

With him.

In a completely innocent manner, of course.

But still…it made his head spin and his heart race.

"Are you ready for bed?" she asked cheerfully.

"Uh…yeah. Yeah, I'm good," he replied, pulling the blanket up around him.

Kazuha reached over and turned off the light; that done, she leaned sideways to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Well, g'night!" she said. She snuggled down under the blankets, sighed…and relaxed as she prepared to let herself nod off for the night.

Heiji sat up in bed and stared at her through the darkness long after she had dozed off.

**_-o-_**

The next morning was surprisingly and pleasantly free of awkwardness.

Well, from Kazuha's side of things, anyway.

She didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that she had just spent the night in Heiji's bed—though it had been clothed and without any real physical contact. Heiji had spent a good while lying awake, glancing over at her sleeping form. He had not touched her. But he could not shake the image and feeling.

Kazuha had slept in his bed.

There was no emotional duress or special circumstances. And the choice had been hers completely.

She had just walked in and done it.

And trying to figure it out was killing Heiji.

She was bouncing around cheerfully, though somehow she managed to not spread a path of toast crumbs in her wake. That in and of itself seemed borderline miraculous as far as Heiji was concerned. But her attitude…it wasn't that he wanted things to be awkward, but it seemed like things should be.

"So what're you doing today?" she asked cheerfully.

He shook himself and managed a reply. "Oh…I'm going down to the precinct. Had that case the other day. They need me to come in and answer a couple of questions and fill out some paperwork. Pretty standard stuff. Also pretty boring stuff, but eh, comes with the territory."

"Aww," she pouted a little. "Is it going to take long?"

"Probably just a couple of hours," he said with a shrug.

"…we should get lunch," she cheered. "Go out for a little bit this afternoon."

Heiji stared at her.

"…what?"

"Kazuha…" he said slowly, "…you're really cheerful."

"I know," she said with a grin. "I don't know exactly why, but I'm just in a really good mood today." She leaned back in her chair and popped the last bite of her toast into her mouth. "I slept really well last night. So I've got a lot of energy today."

Heiji nearly choked on his orange juice. "K-Kazuha!"

"What? I'm hyper!"

"No! About last night!" he said, surprised at how indignant he felt over her relaxed attitude. He was in knots over trying to figure out what it all meant. "What was that all about? You…slept in my bed." He lost some of his energy at that last statement, realizing how it sounded.

Kazuha stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "Yes. I did. Because you asked me to, remember?" She reached across the table and poked him in the forehead. "You said you liked waking up next to me and wanted to feel that again. So I obliged you."

He brushed her hand away with a mumbled, "I noticed…"

"If it bothered you that much, I won't do it again," she shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"N-no, that's not it…" Heiji said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Just surprised me, that's all."

Kazuha's smile faded a bit and she sighed. "Heiji…" One hand ran through her hair, which she had not yet pulled back into its usual ponytail. "Look, I'm sorry…I was just kidding around. I didn't think it would bother you that much…"

"I liked it."

That stopped her cold. "You did?"

"Yeah. I did," Heiji nodded. He leaned back in his chair. "I really did."

Kazuha chuckled after a moment's pause. "Are we making things complicated again?"

He couldn't help but smile back at that. "I think so…" He sighed with a wry smile. "We usually do, don't we? If it's not complicated, it's screaming and arguing and calling each other names, right?"

"Can't be helped," she said airily, a little mischief returning to her eyes. "We wouldn't have to argue so much if you would just stop being such a hopeless ahou and admit that I'm always right."

The look Heiji gave her could have frozen water. "Like hell." Then he adopted a more thoughtful expression. "Well…did you mind being in there like that? With me?"

Kazuha shook her head. "No. I actually slept really well with you there. Although it sounds like that doesn't exactly hold true for both of us…" Her look was a touch sympathetic. "I didn't mean to upset your sleep schedule like that."

"Nah, just caught me off guard," he said. "So…do you want to sleep in there again sometime?"

"With you?" Kazuha tilted her head to the side. "Just like it was last night?"

"S-sure," he stammered only slightly, recalling his thoughts from the previous day. It had been eating at his imagination for ages now. And having her there, in his bed, even fully clothed and not touching him in the slightest…a few very interesting possibilities had found their way into his dreams, when he had fallen asleep. It was borderline agonizing, wanting to hold and touch and kiss, but not daring to even mention the idea. Granted, he was sure that the thought had to have crossed her mind at some point. They were a couple, and living together, and they certainly weren't children anymore. Still, again he was not going to voice any of those thoughts. Not now, and possibly not ever. "Just like last night."

"…can I request one change from last night?" she asked softly. "You can say no, but I want to ask."

"What?"

"…you can touch me, you know," she said, a blush rising in her cheeks. "Or hold me. I wouldn't mind falling asleep like that." She looked down at the table. "With you holding me."

Heiji's eyes widened a little bit before he nodded. "If you want…I can do that."

Kazuha smiled. "Did you like waking up with me next to you like that, Heiji? And be honest, you won't hurt my feelings. Was it as nice as you remembered it?"

He thought it over, remembering the events of that first night when she had appeared on his doorstep, rain-drenched and bent to the point of breaking. He remembered taking her shivering form and tucking it into his bed, and her catching his hand as she begged him not to go away. He recalled sitting there until sleep finally overtook him, and then taking the other side of the bed to doze off and sleep away what was left of the night.

And Heiji smiled. "It's better."

**_-o-_**

Kazuha came in again that night and crawled into his bed. Again, she showed no interest in any activity other than innocent sleep. But this time, she was a little closer, and he was actually able to manage eye contact. It was strange, and still a bit awkward to be so close like this, but not altogether unpleasant. And he slept fairly well, dozing off to the sound of her breathing.

The next day brought no comment, though he felt insanely happy. It was a joke in a strange way, a secret game known only to the two of them and only played under the cover of darkness. It was more a question of where that game would lead. What was the punchline of the joke?

Heiji was already in bed the fifth night when she wandered in. She crawled in, as she had done many times before. But instead of sprawling on her own side of the bed (he already thought of it as her side of the bed) and mumbling a demand that he share the blankets, she sat there for a moment…and then inched over and curled up right beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

It took a few moments for his heart rate to return to normal and for the tension that had gripped him to flood back out of his entire body. Kazuha chuckled lightly, but otherwise gave no indication that she was aware of his reaction before she snuggled down to sleep.

Heiji was going all different directions: thrilled at her proximity, humiliated at her laughter, surprised at how forward she was being, mortified at his own imagination, and appalled that he had to remind his body that Now Was Not The Time.

By the time he fell asleep, with her curled up next to him, he had gotten over the initial embarrassment (and calmed himself down where he was pretty sure he wouldn't have any extreme physical reactions), and had decided that this was definitely not the worst position he had ever slept in. It could definitely be a great deal worse.

And the waking up was definitely nice. He liked that part. All he had to was continue to ignore his imagination over the next several days as it tried to prod him further onwards towards something that they weren't ready for, something that could break one or both of them.

Still, his fingers itched…

And Kazuha was completely oblivious. Oh, she had to know on some level that the two of them sharing a bed would open the door for so many thoughts and ideas, and she was probably somewhat aware that he was thinking about those things, but she seemed more or less unaware of exactly how much of an affect she was having on him. She just went about things as usual, laughing and teasing and frowning and yelling—frequently yelling.

They could still argue over anything and everything at the drop of a hat—and frequently did, much to the amusement of those who knew them—but now the apologies were usually tempered with kisses.

It seemed, though, that this was the start of something else. Something bigger. They were building up to something, heading towards that which was unknown, but if they really thought about it, they would probably both be able to predict the outcome of this.

They had been enjoying this set-up of falling asleep and waking up in each other's arms for nearly two weeks before the status quo decided to shift once again and take things up another notch.

This came about one night when Kazuha was already in bed and under the covers, sitting up and chatting with Heiji as he searched for a shirt to wear to bed. This in and of itself was nothing too special; she had seen him shirtless plenty of times. But of course she had to tease him right now. "Aww, why spoil the wonderful view with a shirt?" she grinned.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, the shirt in question finally clutched in his hand. "You just like to ogle. Admit it already," he said, slipping his arms into the sleeves but not yet pulling it over his head.

Kazuha purred softly in response.

"If you get to see me without my shirt," Heiji said with an undeniably speculative gleam in his eye, "shouldn't I get the same treatment? Turnabout being fair play and all?" He meant it as a joke, and expected her to get annoyed, call him an ahou, possibly take a swing at his head, or maybe even tell him to go look in a mirror if he wanted 'the same treatment.'

Instead, she went deathly pale. "I guess so…" she murmured, turning her upper body away from him.

"…hey, Kazuha, it was just a jo—" Heiji started to protest…

But he was silenced in the most extraordinary way when she crossed her arms over stomach, grabbed the hem of the camisole she was wearing as a nightshirt, and peeled it off, tugging it over her head and dropping it to the floor beside the bed. She immediately slid down under the blankets, wrapping the sheet around herself to preserve modesty as she lay on her side. This pose presented Heiji with an ideal view of the smooth, bare skin of her back. "Good night," was all she said.

Heiji's own shirt fell from nerveless fingers and dropped to the ground, already forgotten, and he stared at her. Had she just…? Did she really…? …and what in blazes was he supposed to do about it?

He ended up curling up on his own side of the bed, staring through the darkness at her. Her skin was pale enough that it almost seemed to glow in the dim light. It was a sight that lingered on the back of Heiji's eyelids long after he had fallen into a surprisingly restful sleep.

He was learning to sleep with her presence beside him, and where it had once made it difficult for him to be at ease, it was now comforting and constant. He liked it.

The next day was uneventful and without comment as to their unusual sleeping arrangement. But the next night brought a renewal of their strange little dance. It took Heiji two more nights of looking at her naked back to work up the nerve to ask if he could touch her. He might have been brilliant, but try as he might, he just could not figure out exactly how to progress in this game.

And he nearly froze when she said yes. His mind immediately conjured up a rather appealing image of flipping her over and tearing at her clothes and finally seeing all of her as he pressed her back to the mattress and…and…

Instead, he just scooted closer to her and slid an arm around her waist to pull her back against him. Her back fit perfectly into the contours of his chest, flesh against flesh; her skin was cool. She kept the sheet wrapped protectively around the front of her upper body, and leaned back against him with a happy, contented sigh.

She was driving him crazy.

He wanted to touch her.

…but he refrained.

**_-o-_**

The strange dance continued after that night, but it had taken a new direction. It was flirtatious, certainly, and seductive in a clueless sort of way. Neither was experienced in this matter, beyond Kazuha's abortive affair in America—which was the precise reason that everything between them was moving so slowly in the first place.

But slow or otherwise, things were progressing in what was undoubtedly the world's slowest striptease.

The shirts went first, and it took several nights before they were both completely comfortable sleeping against each other, skin against skin with their arms around one another.

Then pants, and again it was quite some time before they were able to sleep with their legs entwined under the sheets. It was down to the bare minimum…and after the night that signaled the removal of that last obstacle, they slept with the sheet between them, never completely pressed together.

It was starting to creep into their daytime routines as well. Moments of unusual awkwardness, touches lingering a little longer than usual, furtive glances accompanied by red faces…all were becoming the norm. And they weren't arguing as much as they usually did, a sure sign of a problem.

But neither actively brought it up. Kazuha looked like she might say something a few times, and Heiji nearly exploded on one occasion…but she left the room, and he was able to clamp down tightly on himself before she came back. And so it was left in silence.

For every tense moment, there were still so many sweet moments. But it was becoming increasingly clear to both of them that things were building up to something, a potentially explosive head. It was just a matter of finding the spark that would set off the powder keg. And the resulting explosion could do just about anything, including destroy them.

It was only a matter of time.

**_-o-_**

The evening had started simply enough, with a perfectly innocent excursion to dinner. Nothing really out of the ordinary there. They went out with some regularity, as most couples did, and enjoyed their evenings out. While Kazuha was an amazing cook, and Heiji could manage when he felt like it, it was just nice to go out and let someone else prepare their meal now and then, or to do other things.

Tonight was a dinner night. And though neither of them were big drinkers, both enjoyed a few glasses of wine with their meal; there was no harm, as neither had to drive, and they had no intention of going overboard. By the time they caught a cab and headed back to their apartment building, both were feeling warm, fuzzy, and very cheerful.

They made it into their building and all the way to their apartment itself without difficulty or incident. Once safely inside, Kazuha kicked off her shoes, not bothering to leave them in any order. "So!" she bubbled, beaming. "Th' night is still young! Whatcha wanna do?"

Heiji shed his own shoes in the same haphazard fashion, and also took the time to remove his jacket; he dropped this carelessly to the floor and waved a hand at her. "Why're you still wearin' yer jacket?" He reached out and caught her shoulders in both hands. "Ahou…" The old nickname rolled easily off his tongue in a habitual act as he tugged at her jacket, unsure as to why it was bothering him that she was still wearing it. "S'after eleven. Not young anymore."

…it actually bothered him, on some level, that she was wearing anything, really…

She leaned against him with a grin. "You silly."

And she kissed him as her jacket slid back off her arms and dropped to the floor at her feet.

There was a flicker of memory, of something painful from another night in what felt like another time. But it was lost in what was happening now, a far more pleasant, enticing distraction with none of the accompanying guilt, anguish, or distaste of that awful memory.

Their arms were around each other, already engaged in innocent exploration, and they were moving away from the front door in search of more comfortable quarters. They paused by the door to his bedroom, and he felt her tense in his arms as though she were thinking about some other possibilities…

And then she tugged on him, pulling him away from the bedroom and pressing his back to the wall instead. In his mind, it was tantamount to a silent indication of what she was thinking and what she wanted: Not that. Not now. Not yet. And he was perfectly fine with that.

There wasn't much time to catch his breath before her lips were against his against, hands grazing over his arms and chest in innocent exploration. And he had lost much control over his own hands and his own wandering touches. He might have said her name. He wasn't sure. If he did, it was lost in a press of lips that was growing more and more insistent with each passing second.

…eh, thinking was highly overrated.

When he wasn't on a case, anyway.

In the meantime, the kisses grew more desperate and more heated. He was tasting her and touching her, finally daring to let things get a little more bold. His hands started to brush over more intimate places. Their unusual sleeping arrangements meant that he was just starting to learn the path of her body, but he was willing and eager to figure it out.

Kazuha wasn't protesting, but pressing harder and making little noises into his mouth.

Emboldened by her actions and the hazy cloud of arousal, he moved his hands, feeling breasts that moved beneath his hands and hearing her moan in response and the whole thing was so amazing…

Suddenly Kazuha jerked back and looked at Heiji with wide eyes. Startled (and a little disappointed) at the sudden end to the very pleasing kiss, Heiji blinked back at her through eyes that had gone glassy with desire. "K-Kazuha…?" He was alarmed at the look in her green eyes, the look of panic and fear and unmistakable arousal. She should never wear that kind of expression…

She eased back, out of his arms, and wrapped her arms around herself. "I think…" she paused, then cleared her throat to try and make some of the hoarseness go away, "I think I need to go to bed." She moved backwards, towards her own room. "Need to sleep…" Her breathing came in little pants, her face red, and her wide eyes never leaving his face. "I—good night."

With those two last, rushed words, she stepped backwards into the darkness of her own bedroom and quickly closed the door behind her. Heiji was left alone, leaning heavily against the wall, staring at the closed door and realizing that he had probably just done something very, very wrong.

It took him a few moments to make his wobbly knees cooperate, but he managed to make it back into his own room, where he sat down on the bed and stared at the floor. It felt strange to be alone in his room like this at night…

After a while, he got up and fumbled through the darkness until he found pajamas. Once he was changed for bed, he crawled under the blankets and lay there, staring at the ceiling and trying to sleep. But try as he might, sleep was not coming. He couldn't sleep without Kazuha's warmth on the other side of the bed and her steady breathing in his ear.

…he'd messed up big time, hadn't he?

For what seemed like hours, he just gazed up at the moonlight-touched darkness and thought about everything. He really had started this all because he couldn't keep his imagination in check, and dropped that little bug in her ear, mentioning how much he wanted to wake up to her. And now they were stuck in this game with rules he hadn't quite been able to grasp.

Why couldn't he have just taken the damn risk and said straight-up that he'd been thinking about sex and wanted to know where the boundaries were?

The next time he turned his head and glanced at the clock, he was stunned to see that it was just past two-thirty in the morning. How had so much time gone past so quickly? He really needed to get to sleep and let tomorrow bring what it would. Too bad he couldn't doze off without…

…her…?

Was his door opening?

Heiji sat up in bed. "Kazuha?"

"Hey…" she murmured. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah…"

She slipped through the door and closed it behind her. "I can't sleep," she said.

"Me neither," he managed a chuckle and admitted, "I think I got too used to you being with me."

"Same here," she laughed lightly in return, walking slowly towards the bed. "I couldn't fall asleep by myself. So I thought I'd come in here and see if you were awake." She wrapped her arms around her waist. "Hey…I'm sorry about what happened before. Even though I probably shouldn't be. I'm well within my rights to not want to…" She stopped herself there, and fell silent.

There was a moment of silence between them before Heiji broke it. "Kazuha, I wanted to ask—"

"Sex, right?"

"…yeah."

To his surprise, she chuckled. "I thought so." She sat down on the edge of the bed; in the dim light, he could see that she was wearing a camisole and pants. The moonlight still had that extraordinary affect on her pale skin. She was beautiful.

But the silence that fell then was thick and heavy.

"You know…" Kazuha said after that moment of quiet. "I won't run away just because you ask me something. I'll be honest. But I won't run." She sighed. "To be honest, I've been thinking a lot lately…"

"About what?"

She looked out towards the window. "This whole thing…what happened before, our whole relationship since I came back, what's happening now…I'm being selfish. I've been selfish about everything. And maybe it's time that I stop being so self-centered and start thinking beyond that." She sighed. "This isn't just about me. It's about you too."

"Kazuha—"

"What do you want, Heiji? Please be honest."

"…I don't know anymore," he sighed, startled to realize that it was the truth. He knew what he ultimately would like, but at the same time he didn't know if he really wanted it to happen. Still, he wasn't going to let it go like that. "What do you want?"

"I want to wake up the next morning and not be alone in bed," she said softly. "That's what happened before. I don't want to go through that again. It's lonely." She finally turned to look at him. "Heiji, I want you. Lord knows we've been together long enough. But…"

He couldn't help but chuckle. "There's always a but, isn't there?"

"Always."

"Well…I can promise that I'll be there in the morning," he said softly. "Just like I've been every other morning." He leaned his head back against the headboard. "Look, I think we're both too worked up to really make a decision right now. So…maybe we should go to sleep."

She nodded and started to stand, then hesitated.

Before she even opened her mouth to ask, Heiji nodded. "You can stay in here if you want. I'd actually be grateful. I can't sleep without you breathing in my ear." As she silently crawled into bed, he couldn't help but add, "You sound like Darth Vader."

That got a favorable reaction, in the sense that she seemed annoyed. "Oh, shut up."

She did curl up next to him, though, and dozed off in record time, finally comfortable.

**_-o-_**

**_Who are you…?_**

_She was being pushed down by something, someone…pushing her back against a hard surface and pressing against her, into her. It hurt. It hurt so much, and it was so cold and unfeeling, but she couldn't make a sound. She couldn't even scream._

**_Let me go…please let me go…_**

_It didn't stop._

**_I don't want that…_**

_Her voice broke, and so too did the scream that had been stuck painfully in her throat. And she tore away, unsure of how she did so, and fell, pulling her knees up to her bare chest and curling up as tightly as possible. She was naked and alone, and felt so awful, so dirty…_

**_I'm not yours…_**

_She lay there, shivering, for a moment before she felt another touch. Where the first touches had been painful, this was soothing. The earlier ones had been cold; this was warm and comforting, and she wanted more of it. She reached for that hand, drawing it to her._

**_I'm yours…_**

_And she pulled that warmth to her, holding on tightly and noticing that the skin of that hand was so much darker than her own._

**_I want you…_**

**_-o-_**

Kazuha opened her eyes with a jolt and sat up in bed, both hands clutching at her throat as she tried desperately to breathe. She felt strange, hot and cold at the same time, and terribly shaky.

There was a groan beside her, followed by movement and a tugging at the sheets, and then Heiji sat up as well. "You okay?" he asked, concern in his voice and face. He touched her shoulder.

…it was warm.

She looked at him through the darkness for a moment before she reached out and grabbed him, pushing him back against the green and white sheets with a kiss that started out sweet and chaste, but did not stay that way for long.

The kiss broke, and Heiji panted out her name. "K-Kazuha…?"

She swallowed hard to steel her nerve and chase away those last few nagging doubts, and smiled, again lowering her lips to his as she murmured two words: "Be gentle…"

There was a beat before he started moving, and judging by his actions, he understood.

**_-o-_**

When Kazuha next became aware of the world, it was a great deal brighter. Without even opening her eyes, she was conscious of the fact that there was sunlight streaming in through the window, and the day was well upon them. She wondered what time it was.

It had certainly been an eventful night, to say the least.

She stretched out, remembering the events of the early morning hours; even the feel of muscles stretching in protest after engaging in an activity that they were definitely not accustomed to couldn't keep the smile from her face. She and Heiji had…

Wow…

They were finally…

This was easily the happiest Kazuha had ever been.

She rolled over, reaching her arms out with every intention of snuggling up to Heiji and wasting a few more moments of the day like that before she felt her usual sense of cosmic obligation to get up and do something productive with whatever was left of her day. She could smell his scent on the bedding…

But she immediately realized that something was wrong when her hands fell on empty sheets.

The other side of the bed was empty.

Suddenly, Kazuha was wide awake, and all of the warm, happy feelings she had been enjoying vanished. She sat up, clutching the blanket around her bare torso as she glanced around the room, but to no avail.

Heiji wasn't there.

She went cold inside, remembering what they had talked about the night before. Her biggest fear was that history would repeat itself, that she would wake up alone in the morning and find him gone. He had sworn up and down that he would never do that to her, and she had believed him. She had no reason to doubt him, no reason at all…

So why was she alone?

Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes, and her shoulders started to shake. He wouldn't…Heiji didn't…

And then she heard a sound through the wall that told her everything she needed to know. She stared at the wall for a moment, listening to that sound, and then hearing footsteps padding back towards the bedroom. Making a quick decision, she burrowed back under the blankets, trying to give the illusion that she was still sound asleep.

The footsteps moved softly across the room and stopped by the bed. There was a pause, and then Heiji spoke, his voice laden with irony: "…I get out of bed for ten seconds to go use the bathroom, and that's when you finally decide to wake up?"

He wasn't fooled. She opened her eyes, and that loosed the floodgates as the tears that had already gathered rolled down her face. "I woke up and you weren't there…" It wasn't an accusation, but a statement of a fact that had left her terrified.

Arms were around her in an instant. "I'm sorry," he sounded like he was torn between worry and chuckling. When she looked up, his green eyes (she loved his eyes, and that shade of green was her favorite color simply because it was the color of his eyes) were watching her closely.

Kazuha shook her head. "No…I overreacted." She wrapped her arms around him and flopped back to the bed, pulling him down next to her and curling up to him. "I just panicked. I trust you. Just…gave me a little bit of a heart attack, you know? But I'm not angry, it's okay." To prove her point, she arched up a bit and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

Heiji reached down and pulled the green and white bedding up around them before settling in. "I probably shouldn't have done that with the blankets, should I?" he chuckled as he got comfortable. "We're not going to move for the rest of the day, are we?"

"Hmm, you know I can't be completely lazy all day," she replied, closing her eyes. "Give me a little while longer, and then I'll be ready to face the day. Besides," she nudged him with her elbow, "I know how grouchy you get when you try to ignore your stomach. Not a pretty sight."

"Ahou!" he shot back automatically.

"Not my fault you're a black hole on legs."

"You don't have to rub it in."

"Yes, I do."

It was like nothing had changed at all, really. They were poking and prodding and bickering just like they always had; they certainly didn't look different, if a bit mussed for a lack of grooming. The only differences were the way he held her a bit closer and a bit more tightly than he ever had before…and the fact that they were pressed together skin to skin, naked and exposed and unashamed of either fact.

But in short order, the argument gave way to some very pleasant kisses.

After a while, Kazuha sat up and reached down, fumbling around on the floor for something to wear. "I am going to make breakfast," she announced, finally getting a hand on a shirt. She lifted it, and found that it was Heiji's, but she still yanked it over her head. It was huge, and when she stood the hem hung halfway down her thighs.

Heiji looked disappointed, but she was firm. "Get up soon, or you're fixing your own breakfast."

**_-o-_**

When evening came, Heiji wondered what would happen. Would there be a repeat of the glorious night before? Would she even want to sleep in the same bed? He waited until he saw her yawn for the third time before he spoke up. "Hey, Kazuha…"

"Hmm, I think I'm going to head to bed," she said, rising to her feet. Before he could asked the question, she added, "I think I'm going to sleep in my own room tonight."

Heiji couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed, but he simply nodded and wished her a good night.

Kazuha stretched her arms over her head and started towards the door to her bedroom. She paused there, though, and glanced back over her shoulder. "Where are you going to sleep tonight?"

"…huh?"

She smiled. "Where are you going to sleep tonight, Heiji?"

It took him a moment to realize what she actually meant. In the second it took him to process the full implications, she had vanished into her room, leaving the door wide open in a silent, encouraging addition to her verbal invitation.

Smiling to himself, Heiji made sure all the lights were off in the apartment before he headed into her room, closing the door behind him to shut them both in for the night.

* * *

**PS.** _Let it be known that I SUCK AT WRITING SMUT. But I tried, and that's what counts, amirite? Whew…this one took a while, all eight thousand words of it XD But it marks the seventy-fifth story in this challenge. I am now three-fourths of the way done with fanfic100. WHOO!_

_It does bear mentioning that this is the abridged version, minus the actual smut scene. The full version is over on my writing journal on LiveJournal. Either way, I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	76. Spoilers

**Title: **Spoilers  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito, Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#97—Writer's choice  
**Word Count: **330 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Kaito just can't help himself, especially at the worst possible moment. Spoilers for the sixth Harry Potter book. Yes, you read that right.

* * *

It was the twenty-first day of July, in the year two thousand and seven.

And Kuroba Kaito (along with his best friend and favored target for annoying, Nakamori Aoko…AND approximately ninety percent of the rest of the world population) were waiting eagerly in line to get their hands on a copy of the final Harry Potter book.

When it was his turn, at long last, Kaito paid for his book and eagerly flipped it open to the last chapter as he ducked between some shelves, out of view from the rest of the line. Beside him, Aoko gave him a questioning look, her own copy still firmly closed in her hands. "What are you doing? You aren't really going to read the last chapter here, are you?"

She got no reply. Instead, Kaito stood there for a moment. Then, in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the entire book store, he cried out, "OH MY GOD! SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE!"

The eruption of noise and swearing that came from the rest of the assembled crowd was deafening, and included a few calls for tar, feathers, and various other instruments and items that left Aoko to wonder how exactly they could be used in the painful torture and/or murder of anyone.

After a while, she heard another voice (this one female) say very loudly, "Guys! Wait!"

The mob fell silent.

The same female voice then said, in a somewhat more subdued tone, "…isn't that book six?"

Another beat of quiet.

Then there was the sound of several dozen people collectively slapping themselves on the forehead.

Still hiding in the stacks, Aoko gave Kaito one of her patented Looks and shook her head. "I am never going anywhere with you. Ever again. EVER. Do you understand me?"

Kaito, meanwhile, glanced at his watch and grinned, that great big smile that said it was good to be alive. "Two minutes and forty-eight seconds for someone to figure it out. Not bad."

"EVER."

* * *

**PS.** _Yes, I realize that I'm about a year too late for this, but the idea wouldn't shut up and leave me alone. I fought it for about seven months before I just gave in. Damn plunnies have extremely sharp teeth, don'tcha know. Anyway, I hope you at least got a chuckle out of it. I'm going to go have a bath in boiling bleach to clean off the dirty feeling. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	77. Butting In

**Title: **Butting In  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Yuusaku/Yukiko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#54—air  
**Word Count: **401 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **A few of Yuusaku's fans were getting a bit too enthusiastic…

* * *

Book signings and parties like this were a decidedly important part of Kudo Yuusaku's chosen career. It was when he would meet the fans and mingle and schmooze and sign autographs and all those other important things that helped to ensure that he would continue to be published, his books would continue to sell, and he, Yukiko, and Shinichi would continue to live in comfort.

It sometimes came to pass, though, that he would find himself faced with some fans who were, ah, slightly more enthusiastic than others. And he would do his best to be polite and all that fun stuff, but he had decided that it was in his best interest to not do anything that stupid.

Especially when his darling, long-suffering wife had accompanied him to the party.

At the moment, he was trying to figure out how to fend off some such offers from a couple of women who…well, their mothers would be ashamed to hear what they were suggesting, put it that way. And they were not terribly deterred by the ring on his finger. If anything, it might have made him more attractive—at least, that was how it seemed.

Yuusaku held his hands up, glancing around for Yukiko. There were precious few ways that this could end well, especially if these two ladies did not back down or Yukiko spotted what was going on and stepped in. She could be quite the tigress when she chose. Best to try and diffuse the situation as soon as possible. "Ah, well—"

He was interrupted in his obligatory protest when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. A hand wearing what was unmistakably a wedding ring, and one that he knew all too well.

Sure enough, Yukiko sidled up beside him, seemingly materializing out of thin air. Her hand remained casually on his shoulder; she looked every inch the model and movie star she had once been, and there was a decided gleam in her eyes that spoke volumes of potential trouble. "Is everything all right, dear?"

The women stared at Yukiko. Then back at Yuusaku. Then at Yukiko again.

And suddenly, they all had somewhere else that they absolutely had to be. Very, very quickly. It was rather remarkable how fast some of them could run in stiletto heels.

When Yuusaku gave her a look, she was radiating false innocence. "Oh…did I interrupt something?"

* * *

**PS.** _Random little ficlet. Not much to say. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	78. Six Things Not to Say to a Man

**Title: **Six Things Not to Say to a Man  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi/Ran, Heiji/Kazuha, Kaito/Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#52—fire  
**Word Count: **2921 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **There are some things you just shouldn't say. EVER.

* * *

**- That looks cute. -**

Tonight was a very big night, Kaito reflected.

Well, any night that involved taking Aoko out was a big deal. But tonight was The Night, he had decided. He was going to ask her to marry him, and that was that. He hoped and prayed desperately that she would say yes, but that was really up to her.

Still, it had him a bit more on edge than he usually way. And he was really concerned about his appearance as a result. He wanted to look as good as possible for this (might help his bargaining position a bit?), which translated to an unusual hour and a half spent in front of the mirror, double checking his suit and making sure that his hair was…well, there wasn't much that he could really do about his hair, so mostly just making sure that it was still attached to his head.

And of course he rehearsed his little speech, pretending that his reflection was Aoko and telling it that he loved it and wanted to spend the rest of his life with it and would it marry him? Granted, he was relatively sure that he would end up getting nervous and barely manage to stammer out the actual proposal itself, let alone any sort of eloquent speech.

But it was nice to feel like he had prepared, at least.

Once satisfied, he grabbed his keys and headed to the car. The drive over to Aoko's apartment was relatively short, though it seemed infinitely longer on this particular night. But he finally pulled up next to the building and headed inside.

He paused outside by the flowerbed, though, and glanced down. They did look lovely…after a moment, he had an idea, and on a whim he pulled a flower from nowhere and attached it to his lapel. It looked nice, the red petals against the black suit. A little touch of class.

That done, he bounded up to Aoko's apartment and knocked on the door. Hearing a soft call of "Come in," from inside, he opened the door and slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

"Kaito?" she called from the vicinity of her bedroom. "I'll be just a couple more minutes!"

"No hurry," he replied. His hands slipped into his pockets, and he felt the ring there, just waiting for its big moment. The moment of truth, really. He was nervous, more nervous than he had ever been about any performance, but at the same time he really couldn't wait.

When Aoko emerged, he was momentarily stunned. She was an absolute vision in blue—he had always privately thought that she should always wear that color. It suited her best. But he managed to keep from outright ogling and instead grinned. "You look great."

"Thank you," she smiled as her arms slid around him. "So do you." She glanced down at the rose and tilted her head to the side. "Any particular reason for that?"

"Just a touch of class," he grinned. "Fits me, yes?"

She stared at him for a moment, then bust out laughing. "You are just too cute!"

Kaito kept the smile on his face. Internally, though, was another story.

_Masculinity draining away…send beer…_

**- It's just a game. -**

Saying that Kudo Shinichi was a soccer fan was a bit of an understatement. It was like saying that Mouri Kogoro liked beer, or that Hattori Heiji was loud, or that Paris Hilton wasn't a virgin. Simply making the statement did not even come close to embodying the full and expansive truth of the matter.

Ergo, Ran had learned that when certain soccer matches were on TV, her chances of getting Shinichi's attention were fairly small. Oh, she knew that he appreciated her deeply, and if she really needed him he would drop the game in a heartbeat. But generally, in a non-emergency setting? She could probably walk into the room, strip naked, and stand on her head, and get no reaction.

…okay, maybe not. He was a little bit more perceptive than that. And also he had probably not managed to disassociate himself enough from his hormones to choose a soccer game over her in that particular state. But under normal circumstances, when there was a big game on, the effect was much the same as when he had a big case or mystery in his hands to solve.

In other words, she would be better off having a conversation with the wall.

Ran stood in the doorway and studied him as he watched the big game on TV. His eyes were glued to the screen, his hands clenched into fists and resting on his knees. And chances were that there could have been a call about a murder and he would have told them to call back later. This was the World Cup, after all. The crème de la crème of soccer games.

"Shinichi?" she tried, figuring she would at least make an attempt.

No response.

"Shinichi?"

Still nothing. At the moment, he was either purposefully ignoring her (doubtful), he hadn't heard her (also doubtful), or he had unintentionally tuned her out along with the rest of the world (most probable, considering that he could tune out Sonoko, and therefore he could tune out anything).

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Shinichi!" she huffed, crossing her arms. "It's just a game!"

That got a response out of him, at long last. Namely, he snapped upright and turned to stare at her as though she had just dropped the Devil's name in the middle of a Sunday church service. "

After a sweet and touching moment between the two of them—him gaping like a tuna and her staring impassively back—Ran sighed and turned to the wall. "Okay, let's try this on the wallpaper. Hello, wall. Pleased to make your acquaintance…"

**- Which outfit do you like better? -**

When Kazuha approached with that very singular smile on her face, Heiji had a bad feeling. It was probably akin to the feeling rats had as they fled a sinking ship, or the feeling that he'd had the last time he had been stuck at a party in the company of Hakuba Saguru. That was just painful. Hopefully, whatever was about to happen would contain decidedly less oww. And also incite fewer urges to kill.

One could only hope.

But those hopes were dashed when she produced two outfits on hangers and held them out for him to take a good look at. And she asked the question: "Which one do you like better?"

Obliging for the sake of not having any of his limbs aikido-ed from his torso, Heiji studied the two presented ensembles carefully with the intention of deciding which was superior to the other.

The first was a short black dress.

The second was…also a short black dress.

And while he could see some small differences (the first one had some sort of belt, while the second one had skinner straps), overall they looked exactly the same to him. Same length. Same basic shape or cut or whatever they called it. They were practically identical, even to his trained eyes. Yet she was waiting eagerly for him to choose one as better?

"Err…" Heiji cleared his throat, then asked, "Which one do you like better?"

He instantly knew that it was the wrong question to ask because she frowned when he said it. "I don't know. I can't decide. That's why I'm asking you. Which one's better?"

"Uhh…" Heiji suddenly found himself reduced to the basic vocabulary of your average caveman. "I say…" He looked back and forth between the two garments, then randomly pointed at one, the one with the skinnier straps. "That one." If he was going to be subjected to this torture, he was going to give himself a bit better view later when she was actually wearing the thing.

Kazuha turned to study the one he had chosen before giving him a dubious look. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Definitely. That one for sure."

"Are you really sure?"

"Yes."

"You're not just messing with me?"

Heiji fought down the urge to slam his face into the table, even though the bloody and/or broken nose would probably hurt a great deal less than this conversation. "No, I'm not!"

"So you're sure that this one is better?" she raised the hanger he had pointed to.

"Do you want to wear that?"

"I don't know!"

"Fine, ahou, then wear the other one!" he sighed, pointing to the other hanger.

Kazuha's frown grew darker, and she huffed, "I knew you weren't taking this seriously!"

"They look exactly the same!"

"Are you blind? They're completely different!"

"Then you pick one! Ahou!" Heiji snapped.

"You're the ahou!" Kazuha tossed both dresses over one arm and put her other hand on her hip. "You can't even tell the difference between two outfits, ahou!" She turned and stomped off, leaving Heiji to stare at the table and try to think if there actually was a difference between those two outfits.

…no. Definitely not.

**- We need to talk. -**

Aoko had walked into the room, but hesitated a few seconds before speaking up. "Kaito?"

He had been amusing himself by playing with a deck of cards. He had been shuffling them in different ways, flipping them between his hands, making them appear and disappear in and out of thin air, and dealing himself various hands and combinations for poker. When she came in, his hands had slowed, awaiting whatever she was going to say.

As the seconds ticked by without a word, he started to get a bit apprehensive. If she was nervous about it…well, chances were that it didn't bode terribly well for him. But maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe…

"We need to talk."

_Ka-chunk._

Before Kaito could even start to formulate a response, his brain shut down. Complete, total, and utter disintegration of all his thought processes. There wasn't a single idea or thought flittering around in his entire thinky organ. And it was all because of that one little, tiny, four-word statement.

_"We need to talk."_

About what? There were no hints in her words. She wasn't holding anything. There were no signals at all as to what this mysterious subject was that she was so desperately eager to discuss. Or perhaps she wasn't that eager—she had hesitated but good before saying anything.

Kaito managed to jump-start his brain somehow, and started reeling through all his memories, recalling the events of the last few days, searching for anything that would have prompted such a Discussion of Serious. Usually when Aoko wanted to discuss something, it had to do with his behavior (or lack thereof). But try as he might, he couldn't come up with anything that he had done that would have led her to say that they Needed To Talk.

He had actually kinda sorta behaved himself for the last few days. Mostly, at least. Aoko's birthday was coming up. It was part of her present, though it did tend to make her a little bit suspicious (and occasionally worried) when he went more than a day or two without flipping her skirt, ruffling her hair, or pulling strange objects from even stranger places on her person.

But there was no avoiding it, even if her choice of wording made his brain shut down faster than long division did. He let the cards fall to the table in a scattered heap (and refrained from calling an impromptu match of Fifty-Two Card Pickup as a distraction) and turned to face her. "Okay. What's up?"

Aoko crossed the room and stood over him, arms folded, expression shuttered. "Kaito…"

He waited.

…and she swatted him on the head. "I don't care how much you love chocolate chip cookies. Next time I bake them, don't you dare eat them all, do you understand me?" Now her eyes were blazing.

Kaito rubbed the now-sore spot on his head and nodded contritely. "Yes, ma'am…"

"Good." And she strolled away.

…well, that was certainly anticlimactic.

**- Do you think she's pretty? -**

After permitting himself to be dragged along on a shopping trip with Ran, Shinichi finally managed to get a break when they stopped for lunch. In truth, he didn't mind the shopping so much—time with Ran was time with Ran, no matter what. It was the Everest-esque mountain o' boxes that he inevitably wound up carrying that made him cringe every time she suggested such an activity.

So it was with great relief (to his arms) that he dropped into his seat at the table. They had chosen a little corner bistro-like café, a rather charming little place. Since it was a beautiful day outside, they opted to claim a little table outside. The umbrella on the table gave them shade from the full glare of the sun, making for a very pleasant scene.

As they were enjoying good food and even better conversation, a girl walked by the restaurant. She was stunning, built like a model, and dressed to kill. Possibly by giving any males within a fifteen meter radius of her severe nosebleeds. If she sat down or took too deep a breath, she was probably running the risk of a misdemeanor charge.

Needless to say, the attention of every male at that intersection was suddenly diverted.

Including Shinichi's.

Ran glanced at the woman in question as she strolled past. Then she looked at Shinichi and waited for him to turn back to her. When he did (a couple of seconds later), she smiled—and never had a more crocodile-like smile graced the face of Mouri Ran. "So, Shinichi…"

He braced himself, knowing that it was coming.

"…do you think she's pretty?"

For a single moment of complete insanity, Shinichi was tempted to reply with completely honesty and say yes. Because he did think the girl was pretty from a purely sexu—err, asthetic point of view. He certainly wasn't blind. But it wasn't like it meant anything. He thought plenty of women were pretty. Hell, he would admit that his own mother was a very pretty woman—it didn't mean anything!

Feeling Ran's eyes on him as she waited with that faux-innocence for his answer, he swallowed hard and said the first thing that came to his mind. "I…err…didn't notice?"

**- Nothing's wrong. -**

Heiji was sitting there in his favorite chair, innocently rereading one of his favorite Ellery Queen novels and pondering getting up to go get a snack when he felt it. It started as a slight tingle on the back of his neck, and he was able to ignore it for a while. But then that tingle grew into a a shiver that eventually ran all the way from his neck down his spine and back up again.

That could only mean one thing.

With a slowness that almost defied the laws of physics, Heiji turned his head to glance back over his shoulder and look at the face of what he was certain was his complete and total doom.

Sure enough, Kazuha was standing there, her arms folded over her chest, her back ramrod straight, her lips pursed, her jaw set, and her glare fixed to KILL. That look could have killed small animals.

…so of course, Heiji frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Her eyes flashed, but she simply said, "No, Heiji. Nothing is wrong."

Now, Heiji might not have been the brightest crayon in the toolshed, nor did he tend to be terribly perceptive where women were involved, but even he could sense that she was being a little less than truthful with him on the matter. "Are you sure you're not mad?"

"Positive." Her tone was chilly enough to freeze a lamp on a nearby table in a block of solid ice.

Still not quite convinced, Heiji turned back to his book. Kazuha stayed where she was, her posture exactly the same. It wasn't long before he felt her eyes boring holes in his back straight through the chair. He briefly wondered if she had lasers installed or something.

"Kazuha, are you sure you're not mad?"

"I said I'm not mad, Heiji. Really." Her teeth were clenched hard enough that she could probably have popped a piece of coal into her mouth and produced a diamond. And was it just his imagination, or were there sparks shooting from her eyes?

He looked back down at his book again, trying desperately to read. But she was still standing there with that look on her face, and it was just plain unnerving. The shivers running down Heiji's spine at her look were going now with all the force of a jackhammer. She was freaking him out, yet insisting that there was nothing at all out of line.

"Kazuha!" he turned around again. "Are you sure that nothing's bothering you?"

"Nothing," she replied. "Nothing is wrong." Where there had been icy cold a moment before, there was now fiery red heat. Flames shot into the air behind her, defrosting the unfortunate lamp. It then went on and melted the television set into a heap of smoldering black plastic and glass.

Heiji stared at what remained of the TV set. Then he closed his book, stood up, and turned around to face the music. "All right already…" he sighed, steeling himself for punishment. "Stop destroying everything in the house and just tell me what I did already."

* * *

**PS.** _Before anyone goes WTF at me, this was inspired by an article on MSN. They toss some lists up there now and then that just spark ideas in my strange little head. There were actually ten questions on the list, but I opted to only use six, with two per couple. There will be a companion piece for the other side of the coin. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	79. Six Things Not to Say to a Woman

**Title: **Six Things Not to Say to a Woman  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi/Ran, Kaito/Aoko, Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#35—sixth sense  
**Word Count: **2674 words  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **It's time for the other side of the coin, with six more things you just shouldn't say.

* * *

**– I've got it all under control. –**

It was supposed to be a pleasant little outing—a romantic weekend trip to a hot spring to relax and spend some time together and hopefully not be interrupted by a dead body falling out of the sky and crashing through the hotel roof, or some bigwig turning purple and falling face-first into his soup at dinner. That was Ran's private hope, at least.

But as they usually did when Shinichi was involved, things tended to go horribly wrong. The man was a walking, breathing embodiment of Murphy's Law. Still, at least in this particular case the thing going wrong didn't involve a corpse.

Not yet, anyway.

"Shinichi…"

"Ran, stop worrying. Everything is fine."

"But we should have been there twenty minutes ago," she pointed out with far more calm than she actually felt. Her hands fidgeted with the straps on her purse for a lack of anything else to do. "Are you sure you know where we're going?"

She saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Yes. I'm sure."

"Why don't we stop and ask for directions?" she suggested in spite of her better judgment, already sure that she knew what the response was going to be.

It came, exactly as she expected it to. "Ran, I've got it all under control! So just relax!"

Ran sighed and leaned back against her seat, giving up. She began mentally counting down the minutes that were being lost to Shinichi's stubbornness, and imagining the more enjoyable activities that could be occupying this time. All she could do now was wait and see what happened, although she was ninety-nine percent sure that she knew exactly how this was going to end.

And it was not going to be pretty. For Shinichi, at least.

Sure enough, a good fifteen minutes later, Shinichi pulled into a gas station and parked and stopped the car. He kept his hands and gaze both firmly on the steering wheel in front of him, and did not look at her. He also was uncharacteristically quiet.

And Ran had to say it. She tried valiantly to resist the urge, but in the end she just could not help herself. "You have everything under control, you said?" For some reason, she was taking a certain amount of fiendish delight in watching him squirm as he realized his mistake. It was so rare an occasion when he made a mistake of this size, and she found herself taking a sadistic pleasure in watching the all-perfect detective be brought down a couple of notches.

The glare Shinichi threw her could have frozen water. "Would you mind just asking for directions?"

She decided to take pity on him. "Oh, all right." She put her hand on the car door, then paused and threw out one last jab. "But if we blow a flat, I'm taking a taxi and you're walking home, dear."

**– Relax. –**

Aoko had a temper. This had always been the case. From the time they first met when they were five years old, Kaito had known that she could get very fired up about things. And he had learned shortly thereafter that she was funny (and also rather pretty) when she was all riled up like that, and so made it his life's mission to annoy her as much as possible.

But sometimes he would pull something, and belatedly realize that he had gone too far or inadvertently pushed the wrong button. And when those things happened, he would be appropriately apologetic and try to make things right. After all, he liked to tease. He wasn't cruel.

…well, not intentionally, anyway.

But apparently that little trick with the shoe horn and the red oven mitt had been a bit too much, and Aoko was furious almost to the point of tears. She was screaming and red-faced and furious, and Kaito really felt bad. He had gone too far, and he was going to swallow his pride and attempt to apologize as soon as Aoko stopped to take a breath (she had been going for six minutes and twenty-six seconds without breaking for air, and was still going).

But at the same time, if Aoko kept going like this…he had the feeling that someone was going to get hurt in some way or another. He had actually noticed Aoko eyeing a few heavy items in the room, and her hands were twitching as though she was just dying to lay them around his neck and squeeze. And she was not stopping for air. This was not good at all!

Finally, for a lack of any other options, he jumped up and grabbed her shoulders. The motion was enough to momentarily startle her into silence. "Aoko!" he said, taking advantage of the fact that she was inhaling. "I'm sorry! Just…relax!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized that he could not possibly have said anything worse. Aoko's eyes grew wide, and her face flushed an even deeper shade of red. Her hands clenched into fists, and she started to shake, like a washing machine on spin cycle. For a lack of anywhere else to hide, Kaito ducked behind the couch and put his arms over his head to wait out the imminent explosion.

It came.

In a torrent of swearing that would probably have the neighbors gossiping for weeks.

Somewhere amidst all that, he was able to discern actual words—something about how he seemed to think she was overreacting or being irrational, but in fact he was a complete CENSORED and he had no right to say anything like that and she was not overreacting because goddammit, had he SEEN what he did to her closet and she was never going to get the carpet clean after that idiotic prank he pulled!

Kaito made a mental note to be extra nice to Aoko for a while.

Or else.

**– What did you do to your hair? –**

A lifetime of friendship had afforded Heiji some insight as to some of Kazuha's behaviors depending on her moods. Whether or not he actually paid attention to those insights…well, that depended. He really only listened to those insights on days that didn't end in Y.

But either way, this knowledge came into play at the strangest moments, both before they had started dating and long after their romantic relationship had gotten underway and started developing. Kazuha had gone out earlier, saying that she had an appointment to get her hair cut, and then she was going to run a couple of errands.

He waved her off with an obligatory jab about how a haircut wasn't going to help, and she called him an ahou before giving him a kiss goodbye and taking her leave. Theirs was definitely an odd relationship, by almost any standards, but it worked for them, and they were both extremely happy .

But at the moment, he became aware that there was something seriously wrong. And he came to this conclusion by nature of the fact that when Kazuha came back from her trip that day, she did something that was not of her normal habit. Usually when she walked back in, she would open the door and call out a greeting as she closed it. She would normally talk to him from the entryway as she took her shoes off before coming in properly to talk to him face to face.

This time, however, he heard the door open, and then he heard it slam shut. Bad sign right there. But the fact that she hadn't even called out an obligatory "I'm home!" or any such thing was another interesting sign. Either she was trying to sneak in (possibly with something for him), or something had gone awry during her day. The slamming of the door seemed to negate the possibility of her trying to be stealthy, as he was pretty sure they heard that crash in Scotland.

And then she walked into his line of sight—or rather, through it. She seemed to be a woman on a mission, storming towards her room with her fists clenched and her face a flushed mask of rage. But it was enough for him to see that something was different: her hair was shorter. Like, a LOT shorter. It wasn't that it looked bad, necessarily. But Kazuha had spent much of her life growing her hair out and wearing it in that ponytail. She could be a little bit vain about her hair.

And without even bothering with something as trivial as thinking before he spoke, Heiji piped up with what seemed like an innocent question. "What did you do to your hair?"

Kazuha froze in the doorway of her bedroom; Heiji swore he could hear brakes screeching.

She turned and marched back to him, leaning down so she was looking him straight in the eye, and putting one arm on either side of him so he had no escape. "Listen up, ahou," she growled. "I didn't do ANYTHING to my hair. That idiot at the salon did this to my hair. Because apparently, a trim translates to several inches. So I'll thank you to keep your goddamn mouth shut!"

With that, she stormed back to her room and slammed that door as well. Heiji was left sitting there, contemplating how close to death he had really come, and mentally adding that particular question to his list of things he should not say to Kazuha.

Let it never be said that the boy couldn't be taught.

**– You're acting just like my mother. –**

The minute the words popped out of his mouth, Shinichi regretted them. He put his hands over his mouth, wishing and praying that he could somehow take them back and hide them away forever, but it was too late. The damage was done.

And Ran was staring at him like he had just told her he was in love with Kaitou Kid.

This whole thing had started out so innocently, so simply, so not confrontational. Ran had wanted to go shopping, and he had agreed (albeit a bit begrudgingly) to go with her. When they had gotten to the store, she had immediately led the way to a certain department (one that was soon to become extremely relevant to their interests), and then...

She had undergone a change. A transformation, happening before his very eyes.

His sweet, calm, sensible Ran had started squealing.

And all Shinichi could do was stand there and watch, horrified, as she started bouncing around the department, picking up various small articles of clothing and hurrying back over to eagerly show him what she had found and gushing about how adorable it was before tossing it to him and rushing to the next thing to catch her eye while babbling on excitedly.

Shinichi privately blamed the hormones. That had to be it. There was simply no other explanation as to why he would be left standing here, holding a pile of clothes that increased in size every time she returned to where he was standing, and watching her scurry around like an attention deficit five-year-old hyped up on sugar.

"What about this one, Shin-chan?" she bubbled, her eyes sparkling as she held up yet another hanger with yet another small outfit hanging from it. "Isn't it cute?"

It was the nickname that did it. She had used it before (usually in VERY private moments, though), but to hear her say that god-awful nickname in public like that…the words were past his lips before he could even think about them and reason out that what he was about to say was probably not a good thing.

"You're acting just like my mother!"

When he realized that her chin was quivering (goddamn hormones and the mood swings they wrought!) he quickly tried to amend, "I mean, err, not like that's necessarily a bad thing! I—it was the nickname, you know how Mom is when she gets excited, and I…I…" His shoulders slumped. "I'm not making this any better, am I?"

Ran sniffled. "I'm just excited…the baby…" She toyed with one little sleeve.

Desperate and guilty (and hell, even desperately guilty), Shinichi glanced at the nearest rack. By a quick shifting of the pile in his arms, he grabbed a hanger and held it out. "H-how about this one?"

**– You complete me. –**

"You are the cream of my corn!"

Aoko stared. "What?"

"You are the apple of my pie!"

She blinked. "Kaito, what are you doing?"

He leaned across the table towards her, grinning. "Oh, pearl of my oyster!"

Now she raised an eyebrow as comprehension dawned. "What is this, bad pick-up line day?"

"Your graphics are so beautiful that they rival Doom 3!" he crooned.

"…wait, what?" Aoko gaped.

"You complete me."

"You're joking, right?" Aoko resisted the urge to plant her face into the tabletop. Apparently, Kaito had decided that he was going to try some pick-up lines (possibly the worse, the better) and she was the guinea pig. It was official: her best friend was a moron.

"The voices in my head told me to come over here and talk to you."

"Oh my god…"

"Excuse me, miss, but I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I borrow yours?"

"Kaito."

"What's your sign?"

"Kaito."

"You must be an adverb, because you sure do modify me!"

"Kaito!"

"If I were an enzyme, I'd be DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes."

"Kaito!" Aoko said sternly, and he fell silent; she gave him a look to hide the fact that she was trying to figure out what the hell that last one was. "Stop being an idiot and listen. If you really want to get a girl's attention, don't be so insincere. We've all seen the movies. We know the lines. Just…be honest and be sincere. That's all you have to do." She took a bite of her sandwich. "Trust me on that."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he smiled. "Okay then. Will you go out with me?"

**– Do you really think you should be eating that? –**

Heiji was watching her.

Kazuha calmly scooped up another spoonful of ice cream from the cardboard tub in her hand and popped it into her mouth, quietly reveling in the delicious taste of chocolate and cookie dough melting on her tongue. This was a happy, happy thing.

…but Heiji was still watching her with that look of his. She had a sixth sense for things like that. The look he was wearing was one that meant he was about to ask something incredibly stupid, and she was going to have to take her attention away from her precious, precious ice cream to roll her eyes at him and call him an ahou. And then she would be annoyed, and she would have to let her dear friends, Ben and Jerry, cheer her back up with their fudge brownie and chocolate chip cookie dough goodness.

Unfortunately, she was not to be left in peace to enjoy the tasty treat that she was happily eating straight out of the carton. Heiji had something to say, and he was going to say it, no matter how much of an idiot he made himself seem.

"Do you really think you should be eating that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Try as she might, though, Kazuha just couldn't muster up the appropriate rage for the question. The ice cream was just too good, and apparently frozen treat nirvana could counteract even Heiji's most moronic moments. "Yes. I should," she said flatly, spooning up more ice cream.

"Are you sure?" he persisted.

"Yes. I am."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now stop asking. You're annoying me," she took another bite.

"…didn't you say you were giving it up?" Heiji still continued to bother her.

"Doesn't matter. I'm eating it now," she said.

"But—"

"Would you like this spoon in a very uncomfortable place, Heiji?"

"…no."

"Then shut up and let me eat my ice cream."

* * *

**PS.** _The companion piece to the previous story. Taken from that same MSN article. I did have a lot of fun coming up with really bad pick-up lines for Kaito to say to Aoko, although he suddenly decided to turn all sweet at the end of it. That was just fun. Anyway, thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	80. Her Greatest Gift

**Title: **Her Greatest Gift  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shizuka (General series)  
**Prompt: **#87—life  
**Word Count: **2143 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She is strong enough to take anything that life might send her. A Shizuka fic.

* * *

It is to be an arranged marriage.

She has really been expecting this news for some time now. It has been the topic of conversations that hushed the moment she entered the room, though she doesn't quite know why her parents are trying to hide it from her. It isn't that much of a surprise. Even if she hadn't managed to overhear a few of those discussions, she knows that she is nearing the appropriate age to think of such things.

When she hears of it officially from her mother, she accepts it without complaint. She comes from a traditional background, and this is a traditional way. Furthermore, she trusts in her parents, and she does not believe that they would simply hand her over to someone cruel or inappropriate. So she asks only one question of her mother to make certain.

_Is he a good man?_

She almost expects to be scolded for the question—her parents have been so secretive about the entire thing, she isn't sure if she should question anything about it—but her mother simply takes her hand and smiles. He is a good man, her mother says. Perhaps not the most affectionate person ever placed in this world, she concedes, but you will be safe and cared for as his wife.

_And,_ her mother says with a knowing smile, _you are strong, Shizuka. You are far stronger than anyone knows, even your father. That is your greatest weapon and your greatest gift, for no one will ever be able to take that from you. You are my daughter, and I am proud to see that strength in you._

And she nods and smiles. With that knowledge in hand and her mother's words kept close to her heart, she is certain that she will be all right with this arrangement. She knows her own strength.

**_-o-_**

To say she is not nervous about meeting her future husband for the first time would be entirely untrue. Any woman in her situation would be nervous. While she is not afraid of her future, and she does trust in her mother's assurances that he is a good man, she cannot entirely shake off the apprehensive feeling that coils like a serpent in her stomach.

They are going to the Hattori home to join their soon-to-be in-laws for dinner both as a chance to further acquaintances and familial connections, and as a chance for the affianced pair to meet.

Hence, she found herself dressed in her best and standing alongside her family as they are eagerly welcomed into the home. This is a family of wealth and influence. She is not unfamiliar with settings such as these, but under the circumstances, she suddenly feels very small as she bows to their hosts.

But her strength supports her, as it always has, and when her future mother-in-law smiles and takes her hand and welcomes her to their home and to the family, she is relieved to feel that her return smile and words of thanks are genuine.

Then she meets her intended.

She has learned more of him since her mother's announcement. He is employed in the police department, and is rapidly making his way up the ranks. He is young, but there are already rumors that he could very well find himself the chief someday. He is known to be a very strong, stern man.

Their first conversation is, to say the least, extremely awkward. She notices very quickly that his left hand keeps clenching and unclenching, and she takes it to be a nervous motion. That calms her, somehow. At least the anxiety is mutual. They do not say much. Still, by the end of the evening she feels a good deal more confident, having seen things for herself. And when the bride-gift is offered, she accepts the obi without hesitation.

It will be all right.

**_-o-_**

She has seen pictures of brides, dressed for their wedding day. And she has always known that someday it would be her turn. But that does not mean she is not stunned when the Uchikake gown is produced. A wedding kimono, white and ornately decorated, and one of the most beautiful garments she has ever seen. And she cannot quite believe that she will wear it today.

Her mother attends her and helps her to dress in the gown. She has to smile at the sight of her mother, a woman unruffled by most things, run about in a panic to make certain that everything is in place and secure as it should be. It is made all the more amusing by the fact that she herself is wearing a formal black tomesode kimono, patterned in yellow and red.

Though she does not say it, she does not care for the hood. Though she knows that it is a part of her ensemble, she also thinks of what it signifies: obedience to her new husband. But she says nothing. After all, she has spent her life watching her own mother. She was always obedient…and yet if she wanted something done, it was done without ever stepping outside the bounds of her role.

That is the example she has chosen to follow. And she holds her head high, proud as ever. For she knows that she is strong enough to handle whatever life might send her. With that thought, it is time. She must go and meet her husband and her future.

The ceremony is traditional. Their families toast each other with sake, and the miko perform a dance. The offerings are made, and the prayers are offered to the gods. One modern trend is added: they exchange wedding rings. And in far too short a time, it seems, she has changed her name and her role and place in life.

Oddly enough, though she is happy…overall, she does not feel a great deal different.

**_-o-_**

Things are more or less as she expects them. They were able to get to know each other somewhat before they were married, but there are still various things that both of them have to learn as they go about it. And she finds herself noticing many seemingly inconsequential details simply because they are there in front of her. For example, his toothbrush is always on the left side of the sink. Always.

There are a few bumps in the road as she adapts to things, but she was taught well by her mother in preparation for when it came time for her to step into this role. She quickly falls into her place as his wife. But she does not surrender her pride or her strength, and instead remembers another of her mother's teachings: it is possible to be a dutiful, obedient wife while still, for lack of a better phrase, getting things done her own way.

Their relationship is interesting. They are both extremely intelligent, strong people, and very independent. As she already knew, both from what she had been told and from what she herself had seen, he is not an overtly affectionate man, though she knows he cares.

There are small moments, though. She mentions once (a simple offhanded comment) that she wishes she had a certain pan to make one of her favorite dishes. He says nothing, but the next day he returns home from work a bit late. When she goes into the kitchen a short time later, a new pan of the type in question is sitting there on the counter, innocent as can be.

**_-o-_**

At first, she wonders if she is sick. There have been some things going around, and she has gone out enough over the past week or so that it's entirely possible that she could have caught a strain of some cold or illness. It isn't bad enough to keep her from going about her life as she normally does, but even Heizo comments that she looks a bit…off was the word he used.

She manages a weak smile and says that she is sure she just has a cold or something.

The night after they have that brief talk about her health, she wakes up in the earliest hours of the morning and has to tear to the bathroom, where she is violently ill. Her husband is alarmed, but it passes, and she does her best to assure him that she is fine. Still, he pauses as he leaves for work and tells her to rest today. She promises she will, though she is beginning to wonder if there is something else at work here.

But two days later, she is preparing dinner when the room spins around her. She grips the counter in a panic, but it is a foregone conclusion. She hears the crash of the pan dropping to the floor and feels herself falling, and knows no more until she awakens in the hospital. Her husband brought her here, but she is found to be in good health. She managed to avoid hitting her head.

It is then that the suspicion she has quietly been harboring becomes fact as the doctor tells her that she is pregnant. That is the reason for her sickness. She is in no immediate danger, though the fainting spell worries the doctor. He warns her to eat properly, even when she feels sick. And she is released to go home with a warning to be cautious and lay down if the dizziness returns.

Heizo takes the news of his impending fatherhood quietly, as she expected. But she notices over the following months that his attentions are a bit different than before. He hovers on occasion, and takes on tasks that had previously been in her domain. The months pass, and her belly swells. She will be a mother soon, and there are plans to make.

**_-o-_**

Delivery is a nightmare. There are few other ways to put it. But it is definitely worth it in the end, she decides without reservation. She is a mother now. They have a son, who is already wailing loudly. The baby is dark-skinned, a hereditary trait from her husband's family, but one of the nurses comments that she thinks the boy will have his mother's green eyes. The idea pleases her.

They name their son Heiji.

Now she has yet another role. Watching her son grow is an entirely different adventure, a far cry from anything she has ever experienced before. She guides, teaches, helps, and scolds when the situation calls for it. It seems that a fair number of the situations that call for it involve Kazuha-chan, the daughter of one of Heizo's co-workers, and a close friend of the family.

Still, she can't help but smile at how they interact. Heiji pokes and prods at Kazuha. Kazuha yells back.

She tries to impart a few of her own philosophies and beliefs to her son as well. Given who his parents are, she has no doubt at all that he will grow into a very smart, strong young man. As he grows up, she realizes that she should add 'perpetually hungry' and 'insatiably curious' to that list of traits.

He is his father's son in so many ways, but she sees much of herself in him. Heiji has her expressiveness, her face, her slight build…and his father's stubbornness and drive. But it makes her smile to hear Heiji boast to his kendo teammates that he inherited his boldness from her. She takes that as a compliment.

When he begins to express an interest in mysteries and starts taking cases, she worries but does not make a move to stop him, save for when it interferes with school. He can have a bit of a one-track mind when it comes to tracking down a murderer, and she has no qualms about denying him permission to go places when it does not align with his priorities. He mutters and pouts, but obeys.

And one day, she sits him down and takes his hand and tells him a secret, the very same secret her mother told her when she was young and about to begin a grand new adventure, the one that has come to define her life, and the one that gave her a family and a son, of whom she could not be prouder. That secret has been her greatest gift, and now she passes it down to him.

_You are strong, Heiji,_ she tells him with a knowing smile, as though it is a private joke between the two of them. _You are far stronger than anyone knows, even your father. That is your greatest weapon and your greatest gift, for no one will ever be able to take that from you. You are my son, and I am proud to see that strength in you._

Heiji smiles back.

He understands.

* * *

**PS.** _Whew…okay, does anybody else write about these two? Because I rather like Shizuka. She kicks ass and drinks tea. Not necessarily in that order, and both without messing up her hair. Just got to play around a bit with a couple of characters that we don't get enough of_

_I also did do a little bit of research on traditional Japanese weddings for this story. It's actually a pretty interesting topic, should you care to look it up. I'm sure I still messed up a few details here and there, but I did try to make it at least marginally correct. And so with this, only twenty themes remain for my fanfic100 challenge. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	81. The Apartment: Unwell

**Title: **The Apartment: Unwell  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#31—sunrise  
**Word Count: **2740 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Kazuha woke up one morning to find that she could. Not. Move. Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

Kazuha's infernal alarm went off a good while before the sun decided to grace the morning with its presence. She let out a little whimper and flailed around in search of the button to turn it off. Her eyes wouldn't work, and her limbs felt unusually heavy, but she managed to find the beeping monster and get her fingers on the right button to make the damn thing shut up.

On most mornings, this was the point where she would sit up, rub her eyes, and mutter a few decidedly uncomplimentary things about evil mornings under her breath before getting up and getting dressed for work and starting her day. But on this particular morning, she couldn't even get herself to sit upright. Her arms wouldn't support her enough for her to push herself into a sitting position.

As she flopped bonelessly back to the bed, she noticed vaguely that the other side of the bed was empty. Heiji had mentioned getting up early to go to police headquarters for something. He was probably already awake and up and about. Good for him. With no further ado, Kazuha snuggled back into her pillow and went right back to sleep.

When she again opened her eyes, it was well after sunrise, and her cell phone was ringing on her nightstand. She instinctively tried to reach for it, and quickly found that she could not move her arms, not even enough to grab the phone. It took a great deal of struggling, but she managed to get ahold of her phone. Oh…it was work…why wasn't she in yet?

She thought she mumbled something about not feeling well. Whatever she said, it seemed to work. Her co-worker cooed a bit on the other end of the line and said something about telling the manager for her before telling her to feel better and hanging up.

The phone fell from her hand and clattered to the floor, and Kazuha dropped back to the pillow. She was asleep almost instantly, her last swirling thoughts all involving her inability to move and why did her head hurt and her stomach and…and…

…zzzZZZzzz…

Kazuha's sleep was not peaceful. She had dreams, the kind of strange dreams a person can only have while fevered. In Kazuha's case, she dreamt that she was running up a giant spiral Christmas tree made out of metal, and there were strange little imp-like creatures on flying broomsticks chasing her while she tried to hang large donuts on the branches.

When she woke up again, it was for a mere moment…and then she dropped right back into the dream. Now she was on roller skates, which made it extremely difficult to get up the tree. But she had to light the big snowman on top, or else something bad would happen and would those damn imps stop throwing things at her?

Again she woke up. This time she sat up in bed, though her head was swimming violently. Her mouth felt like a desert, and her scalp itched. It was the kind of dirty, scratchy feeling that seems to accompany the other crummy feelings of being sick. After several minutes of intensely focused effort, she managed to form one coherent thought.

_Shower._

She more or less crawled across the floor to make it to the bathroom, and managed to get to her feet by clinging to the vanity and keeping one hand on the toilet for balance while she turned the water on and found a nice temperature. Stepping under the spray took a bit more effort, but she leaned against the wall and let the water run over her. She felt a bit more human already, and even managed to shampoo her hair and use a little body wash.

Then she closed her eyes to blink.

When she opened them again, she was sitting down in the tub, her head leaning against the wall as the water continued to shower down on her. She had no recollection of sitting—had she fallen or passed out? She didn't think so. She didn't seem to have any bruises or anything like that to suggest that she had taken a spill.

This was probably a bad, bad sign.

She turned off the water and wrapped up in a towel and stumbled back to Heiji's room by simple virtue of the fact that it was closer. Without ceremony or pretense, she flopped down on top of the bed clad only in her towel, not caring if she got the comforter wet. She lay like that for a good while before she realized that she should probably get at least some sort of clothing on before Heiji came home. He might get the wrong idea, and she wasn't in the frame of mind to deal with it.

A bit of fumbling with his dresser drawer and feeling around secured her an oversized T-shirt. There was then an epic battle of her trying to actually get the garment on. For a time, the victor was undecided, but she finally managed to get her head through the right opening and pull the shirt into place. It was huge, the hem ending almost at her knees. Perfect.

That was about all she had the energy to accomplish. She crawled back under the blankets and snuggled into bed…and only then realized that the curtains were open and the sunlight was pouring in. Right onto her face. She moaned and pulled the blankets up over her head to block out the light that got in her eyes and made her head throb.

…and she dropped right back into the dream. Why was everything on fire now?

**_-o-_**

When Heiji came in and called out the fact, he glanced around and was a bit surprised to realize that Kazuha was nowhere to be found. She would usually call back to him or bounce out to say hello. Instead, he was met with silence and empty rooms. But her shoes were still by the door, and when he opened the closet to hang up his jacket, he saw that her jacket was still hanging on its hook. So she hadn't gone out. Perhaps she was asleep?

Slipping off his shoes, he tiptoed over and peeked into her bedroom. No sign of her. The bed was still neatly made. The bathroom door was open and the light in there was off. She wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. So that left only one other room in the apartment.

He crept to the doorway of his own bedroom and glanced in. Sure enough, the bed was unmade, and there was a definite person-sized lump buried underneath the blankets. He could see a few locks of dark brown hair and one hand protruding from under the bedding, and that was it, but it was enough to tell him that his suspicion was correct.

Chuckling to himself, Heiji entered the room and moved around to her side of the bed. How should he wake her up? So many options, so little time. This could be a great deal of fun. Grinning, he reached out and tugged the blanket away from her face. He was a bit surprised, though, to see that she was wearing a T-shirt (when she usually dressed up a bit for work), and she looked a bit pale.

He was reaching for her forehead to check her temperature when he winced at the invasion of the light into her dark little nest of blankets and rolled over with a soft moan. "Heiji…" she mumbled, not fully awake. "No sex now. M'sick…" She tugged at the blankets, whimpering as she tried to pull them back up again to shield her from the mean sunlight.

And Heiji was torn between feeling bad for disturbing her, wondering what he could do to make things better for her, and laughing his head off at the 'no sex' comment. Even when she was half-asleep, she could see right through him!

He resigned himself to chuckling a little and closing the curtains to ward off a bit more of the sunlight that was causing her so many problems. She relaxed as the room grew darker, and actually smiled a little when he straightened the blankets around her a bit. As he snuck out of the room and closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but think that the ahou was turning him into a softie.

Oh well. There were certainly worse things in the world.

**_-o-_**

When Kazuha next opened her eyes, the sky beyond the curtains was dark. When had it gotten dark? And hadn't the curtains been open before? Yes, they had—the sunlight was bothering her, but she couldn't move enough to go take care of it. So she had hidden under the blankets as her only real alternative course of action.

…had someone come into the room? She couldn't really remember clearly, but she thought she recalled the feeling of someone entering and standing over her. But the only person that could have been was Heiji. If it was dark out, he was probably home.

Her head was slowly clearing, and the world was gradually coming back into focus. All right, it was time to find out if she could sit up…and yes, she could! Her mind still felt like it was wrapped in a cloud of fog, but overall she did feel a bit better. And she could move. That was a definite improvement over how she had felt earlier that morning.

She cautiously swung her feet over the edge of the bed and tentatively pushed herself off the bed to stand. She wobbled a little bit, but her legs would support her. But she was cold…her hand grappled on the bed for the throw blanket she'd tossed over herself the previous night, and she managed to get it wrapped haphazardly around herself before she began shuffling towards the door.

Her hands didn't want to cooperate, either; it took her a few seconds to get a tight enough grip on the doorknob to turn it, but at last she managed to get the door open and hobble out into the living room. She was just so tired…

Heiji looked up from the TV when she came in. "Good morning. How ya feeling?"

"Sleepy…" she murmured. Her knees chose that moment to announce (through vigorous shaking) that they had reached their limit, and she barely managed to make it to the couch before they gave out entirely; she nearly landed on Heiji, instead managing to hit the cushion next to him. Her head lulled to the side, and found a shoulder ready and waiting for it. "M'body dun wanna work…"

"Then why are you out of bed, ahou?" he chided, putting his hand on the side of her head to keep it on his shoulder, and thus keeping her upright. "Go back to bed. Get more sleep."

She didn't even have the energy to retort on the old nickname. Instead, she just snuggled a little closer to him and closed her eyes. "Wanted to see you…weren't there when I woke up…"

Heiji sighed. "Ahou…" he murmured the word out of habit, and with no real force or feeling behind it. But he did turn his head enough to press a kiss to her forehead, a bit startled to realize that she was still very warm. "I think we need to get you back in bed to sleep this off."

"Y'always wanna get me in bed…" she said muzzily, and he nearly choked on a laugh. But overall, he really couldn't complain. She might have been only half awake, but she was still curled up to him so nicely, and if she was more or less asleep, then she wasn't yelling at him. And for her part, Kazuha got to sleep using him as a very willing pillow.

It was really a very nice arrangement for the both of them, all things considered.

But the fact was that she was sick and needed some good rest. So Heiji slid out from under her, shifting to lean her against the back of the couch. She made a little whimper of protest as the loss of the warmth and snuggling, but didn't open her eyes. But she did make a little happy noise when he picked her up bridal-style, and snuggled into his chest, mumbling something he couldn't understand.

She was so cute sometimes. When she wasn't yelling. Then she was pretty.

It didn't take him too long to get her tucked back into bed—his bed, if only so he could keep an eye on her while she slept. Chances were that it wasn't anything serious, but it didn't hurt to be cautious. Besides, ever since they had started sharing sleeping space, they both had a bit of an insomnia problem if they weren't in the same bed.

"Hmm…" Kazuha groaned softly as he patted the blanket around her. "Than' you…"

Heiji chuckled, though he punctuated it with a yawn of his own. He had been up awfully early that morning, now that he thought about it. Maybe it was time he got some sleep as well…

**_-o-_**

The next morning found Kazuha awaking after sunrise once again. But at least this time the sun didn't hurt quite so much. She sat up and looked around. Her head hurt, and her throat was scratchy. But overall, she felt a great deal better.

She hobbled out to the kitchen with every intention of finding something to drink to try and soothe her parched throat. Heiji was already out there, apparently fixing himself some gourmet toast. He grinned when he saw her, and she wondered how much of that was because the only stitch of clothing on her consisted of one of his T-shirts. "Morning, sunshine," he cheered, and she felt the suddenly urge to punch him for it. "How're ya feeling?"

Kazuha opened her mouth to respond…and found that she could barely make a sound. A small croaking noise escaped her. That was it. She couldn't speak at all, and trying to made her throat try to close up and hurt a great deal. She put one hand to her neck and looked down, biting her lip as she walked into the kitchen beside him and swiped one of his pieces of toast.

Heiji looked a bit surprised, and made no comment about the toast. "What's wrong?"

She tapped her throat in response and shook her head.

"Can't talk? Sore throat?" He picked up his plate and headed for the table.

She nodded.

To her amazement, Heiji grinned. "Awesome! That means you can't yell at me for a few days!"

He didn't even have time to dodge before the piece of toast she had filched from his plate made an unscheduled death-defying leap through the air and bounced off the side of his head.

**OMAKE**

He just had to go and be all nice, didn't he? And now look what had happened—he'd come down with something himself! Heiji groaned and leaned his head against the toilet for lack of a better place to put it. Normally that would be an extremely unpleasant arrangement, but he felt too crappy to care.

All right, so he couldn't exactly blame it on Kazuha. He didn't have the same thing she'd had. She hadn't been throwing up or any of that fun stuff. And truth be told, she was taking care of him. Though given that he had already managed to make one mess on the kitchen floor that she had graciously cleaned up, he was wondering if he would see her doing secretive research on apartment prices.

So here he was, sitting on the bathroom floor with his head against a toilet seat for comfort. And to make things worse, it felt like it was about two hundred degrees in that bathroom. Why was there no ventilation in here? It was awful!

On the bright side, at least he knew that it definitely couldn't get any worse…

A loud, screeching beeping sound rattled through his ears, turning his brain into curried rice on its way through. For a brief moment, he actually thought he was going to die. What the hell was that?

Kazuha appeared in the doorway a moment later. She was biting her lip. "Umm, Heiji?"

"Hnn?"

"…that's the fire alarm. We have to leave the building."

* * *

**PS.** _The main body of this fic is based on personal experience of the first time I ever got sick when I was at college. I could not move for the better part of the day. And of course, THE ENTIRE WORLD was knocking on my door (grumble). The shower part is also exactly what happened. Still don't know if I passed out or not. The omake was inspired by something I saw on a webcomic—I think it was called Ramen Noodles. Because I don't pick on Heiji enough._

_There will probably be two more installments of the Apartment series before I close this challenge. I already know what they are, and the finale of this…well, it's something that people have actually asked for and asked about. But it should be a pretty long fic. Either way, I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	82. By Night

**Title: **By Night  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi/Ran (General series)  
**Prompt: **#74—dark  
**Word Count: **704 words  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **By day, he was the same as he had always been. But when the darkness came… Shinichi/Ran

* * *

When Shinichi came back to her, Ran was ecstatic. He was back at home, back at her side, and after a particularly difficult, emotional conversation, he was safely in her arms. She was hesitant to let him out of her sight for fear that he would vanish again, but he seemed perfectly content to stick to her and stay well within her view. That certainly made things easier for the both of them.

He was the same as he had always been in so many ways. He was brilliant, and well aware of it, and his deductions at a crime scene were still unmatched. He teased her and poked her and prodded reactions from her, and laughed and apologized when she got angry. But now the apologies were tempered with kisses, and the teasing was a bit more suggestive: that she not stray, that he better not leave her alone because some guy might walk by and she'd be idiot enough to follow, and the like.

And she never got tired of seeing the little possessive glimmer in his eyes that said she was his and no one else's. She was sure that he saw the same look in her eyes, because she certainly wasn't going to let go of him any time soon.

That was by day.

But by night…

When the sun went down, he changed.

It was not a physical change, per se. But the way he acted was different. He was skittish, glancing nervously towards the windows he had to pass, and outright avoiding windows whenever possible. He jumped at small noises, and he did not like to go outside after nightfall. The dark frightened him.

It became even more clear to her the first time she spent the night in his home.

There was something decidedly sweet about being close to him like this, she thought happily. Snuggled happily into his arms, surrounded by warmth and his scent and the feeling that this was exactly where she belonged…it was enough to chase away the memories of the loneliness she had lived with during his absence. It was perfect.

Shinichi was already asleep. He had tried to stay awake longer, but the events of the day were against him. She had smiled and kissed his forehead and told him to sleep, and he had murmured a thank you and a goodnight and dropped off almost immediately. But she was happy to be near him with the freedom to just look at him.

She was just falling asleep herself when he moved. A glance at his face proved that he was still asleep. But the whimpers quickly grew to moans and full-out cries as he started to thrash around, never opening his eyes and never waking up.

Frightened and unsure of what to do, Ran merely curled around him and held him as the nightmare ran its course. After a time that seemed far too long to her mind, he calmed again, settling back against the bed and falling silent as the lines of fear melted from his face. And he slept again, this time in peace.

She lay awake beside him for a time after that to see if anything else would happen before the sound of his breathing and the feel of his heart beating under her hand lulled her to sleep as well.

It was not an isolated incident, though. She saw it happen every time he slept in her presence. The reactions ranged from merely whimpering in his sleep to actually calling out in fear. The sound of it terrified her. Shinichi had always been so strong, so adamant that she not see his weaknesses. Yet now they were laid bare before her during the only time that he could not stop them from becoming evident.

And when those nightmares came, she was helpless. She was powerless to protect him from a terror that lay within his memories, his mind and his heart. When the nightmares struck and Shinichi cried out in the darkness, all Ran could do was stay close to him and hold his hand and hope to every deity in the heavens that she could chase be strong enough for the both of them.

* * *

**PS.** _Yeah. I have no idea. Although I do know that I have done a shockingly SMALL amount of Shinichi and Ran for this challenge. Must try and remedy that a bit in the last few fics of this challenge. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	83. Pick Up

**Title: **Pick Up  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Kaito/Aoko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#15—blue  
**Word Count: **890 words  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Excuse me, miss, but would you mind if I tried a few lines on you? Allusions to sex and EXTREMELY bad pickup lines within.

* * *

There was a reason that Aoko didn't go to bars very often, she reflected as she sat on the stool and studied her drink. It wasn't the fact that she usually wound up on the tipsy side of Sears and had to be especially careful going home. It wasn't the fact that the music was loud enough to make her brain rattle around inside her skull like a peanut in its shell. It wasn't even the fact that she frequently was witness to some rather intense, ah, activity from the couples around her, and had actually found herself wondering exactly where that person's hand was.

No, it was because she was attractive enough that there always seemed to be a few guys lurking around who would try to get her personally involved in some of those rather intense, ah, activities.

Tonight was no exception, and as she usually did when she stopped into one of these places, she found herself trying to remember why she had even bothered coming here in the first place. After the third young man stopped to inquire as to her companionship at the bar and her availability for the evening, she sighed and decided that she was going to leave after this drink.

On the bright side, she had probably heard some of the worst pick-up lines in history, and those usually gave her a good laugh after the fact. There were also some surprisingly good ones, and some that were rather adorable or sincere. Those she usually complimented before politely declining.

But tonight was particularly active, she had noticed. She was getting more looks and more offers than she normally did. It wasn't that she thought herself to be completely unattractive; she knew she was pretty enough to warrant a second glance, though she certainly wasn't the kind of stunner who could stop traffic with her smile.

She wondered privately if it was because she was wearing blue tonight. It was a color she had always looked good in, she knew. And he had always said that it was really her color. Kaito had told her that many times, really, that she looked beautiful in just about everything she wore, but she should really always wear blue.

The memory made her smile, even though the other memories that came with Kaito's name did not.

Stupid boy. And stupid her for missing him as much as she did.

As she was looking down at the last few swallows her drink and contemplating getting just one more, someone dropped onto the stool beside her. She didn't look up. If this person wanted something, they would undoubtedly ask. Otherwise, it wasn't like the stool beside her was taken. It could be a complete stranger who just happened to choose that stool.

That idea was dashed when the person spoke, a low man's voice. "This seat isn't taken, is it?"

"Not at all," she replied, still not looking up.

"Hey, I was wondering…" the man started. It was on the tip of her tongue to politely decline any offers he might make when he went on, "…if you would let me try some pick-up lines on you. Just to practice. I'm usually kind of nervous about talking to girls, but…I don't know, you seem very nice."

Aoko mulled it over for a moment before chuckling; perhaps the alcohol was starting to catch up with her, but she suddenly found this rather funny. "All right. Go ahead. I won't be falling for any of them, but you're welcome to run them by me."

"Oh, that's all right. Just wanted an honest female opinion. Ready?"

"Fire away."

"I miss my teddy bear. Will you sleep with me?"

She laughed. "That's actually kind of cute."

The grin was evident in his voice. "Thanks. How about…you remind me of a blue-ribbon buck. I don't know whether I should mount you or eat you."

"…eww."

"Thought so. Oh!" he snapped his fingers. "Your graphics are even more beautiful than Halo 3!"

"…that one kind of amuses me, to be honest," she admitted. "What else?"

"You've been a bad girl. Go to my room."

"That one's old."

"What do I have to do to be your booty call?"

"If you want an honest answer to that, I'd say don't use anymore pick-up lines," Aoko laughed, taking another sip of her drink. This was actually kind of fun. "You know that very few girls would ever actually fall for any of these, right?"

"…it's worth a shot."

"True. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"Well then, I guess I really only have one more pick-up line to try on you," he said…but his voice had changed. Before it had been a fairly deep baritone. Now it was a lighter, higher tenor, and all too familiar. And she hadn't heard that voice in ages…

Aoko nearly spilled her drink when she heard it. Her hands were shaking on the bar as she looked up at her companion for the first time, and found herself gazing into blue eyes that she had not seen for far too long, but had missed terribly.

And Kaito was smiling gently; one of his hands reached out to brush her hair back from her cheek as he said, "My last pick-up line is…would you mind if I tried some pick-up lines on you?"

* * *

**PS.** _I did a little snippet like this in another story, and it sort of wound up demanding its own full fic. Researching bad pick-up lines is fun, but when I saw the one about trying some, it seemed like the perfect way to tie the whole thing together. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	84. Purposes

**Title: **Purposes  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Haibara Ai (General series)  
**Prompt: **#21—friends  
**Word Count: **4931 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **She remembers a lot of things, through two childhoods. An Ai story.

* * *

She remembers being a child the first time around.

Her parents died in an accident, leaving her with only her sister for family. No one else in the world. Akemi was the only one left to her for comfort and protection, and the feeling of being cared about. Such was an older sister's duty, Akemi would say with a conspiratorial wink.

There were others in the Syndicate, but they frightened her when she was young. They were older than she, bigger and stronger and far more powerful, and she knew what many of them were capable of, even at that age. But she also learned quickly not to show that she was afraid. That was a weakness that she could not afford. There really weren't any weaknesses that she could afford, truth be told. There was only one that she couldn't hide and could never let go of, and so she kept that as her public weakness and hid the rest.

Her sister was her visible weak spot, and her most dire one. And there was no way to call that a good arrangement. It meant that there was something obvious to be held over her. That was another lesson she learned along the way, and one she learned quickly.

She had fallen in with the science department. The things she saw there held an unmatched fascination for her. How chemicals bubbling in test tubes could be combined to create entirely new substances was a source of great interest to her. Many of her free hours were spent in the Syndicate's laboratories, simply observing the scientists at work there, asking questions and listening carefully to what they were willing to tell her, and absorbing as much information as she could.

Someone must have said something to someone, for she found her studies being occupied with far more science and math than before. She still studies things like languages and history and all the other subjects, but her focus is being shifted to a specific field by those who guide her future and ordain what she will do with her life. It is a decision that she is pleased with, though, and she takes to her courses with as much enthusiasm as she will ever show in anything.

As she continued to grow up, she was placed directly into the laboratories, under the supervision of those older and more experienced than she. They were to teach her the procedures and guide her through the various experiments the labs run. That was the place where the Syndicate had decided to place her, citing that her talents would be well served and well used there.

Again, it was an order that was very pleasing to her. She rather enjoyed being there, surrounded by chemicals and formulas and equipment, seeking to create something that had not existed before, to make where there was nothing.

And furthermore, very few of the regular Syndicate members stopped into the labs on any regular basis. It was just the scientists, those who shared her love of the subject and her passion for discovery. She learned at some point that most of those regular members were under orders to not disturb the laboratory's works unless expressly told to enter for fear of disrupting some great experiment or test.

It was a bonus for her, albeit an unexpected one. And so she spent long hours there, much preferring the company of her microscopes and data charts to the company of the others in the Syndicate. Microscopes do not require socialization or discussion of any kind, and data tables do not tend to harm or kill people. It was a most pleasing arrangement for her, under the circumstances, and so she works.

**_-o-_**

She remembers the day she was given charge of her own laboratory.

They were opening a new lab devoted to medicinal enterprises, the official word was. But she knew all the dialogue by then, and was not fooled by the wording. Medicinal enterprises meant two things. She would either be working on new treatments for Syndicate agents injured or otherwise disabled while acting on their orders and missions, or she would be doing research into new poisons.

It ultimately turned out to be the latter.

When she received her new instructions for the first time, a bug was dropped in her ear. It was a possibility that she had always been aware of, but it had never been anything with any opportunity to really come into play. But now someone had mentioned that if she kept up her good work and followed her orders, it would keep certain people happier and healthier a great deal longer.

He did not have to specify anyone. She knew immediately who he meant.

Akemi.

The threat itself was subtle, though. She had always worked diligently in the labs, at her science. She enjoyed doing it. There was really no need for them to make such a threat. But at the same time, she privately thought that the idea went both ways: if they wished for her to keep working as she always had, they would leave her sister alone.

She knew that she was one of the most promising scientific minds in the Syndicate. And she held information and knowledge in areas that no one else did. While she was not so brash as to think of herself as being irreplaceable to the Syndicate, she knew that she was important.

But it bothered her. She had no interest in hurting or killing other people; her interests were purely scientific. Yet her instructions were to develop tools to do both. Capsulated killers. Liquid death. Murder in a pill. Those were to be the products of her labor and the focus of her study.

So she took the only real avenue left to her, and structured her work and her tests carefully. Sooner or later she would have to produce some sort of product for the Syndicate's use. But if tests failed, then they failed. If something did not react the way it was expected to, then data and equations would have to be reworked to search for an error. If experiments on lab animals yielded no conclusive results, the subject being tested would require a bit more work to make it viable.

Furthermore, as she informed one of the Syndicate higher-ups when questioned about an experiment her lab was to be running, science was a field that was always changing. Things did not always go according to plan, and reactions could not always be predicted, and patience must be exercised to achieve the greatest results.

For a long time, that was how she worked. She was careful about it, but always managed to make herself appear to be hard at work and filling her days with tests and experiments while she was truly stalling until she absolutely had to present the finished product. But she made it worth their while by giving them the best product possible; to do anything less would lead to her discredit and could potentially endanger her life. The drugs and poisons her lab created were the best in the Syndicate, and she was consistently held in the highest regard by her superiors.

Eventually she was given a code-name as a symbol of her status and respect.

She was called Sherry.

**_-o-_**

She remembers the day her sister died.

Ever since she had taken her place, she had worked with a fair amount of consistency to ensure that Akemi would stay safe and sound. They met now and then outside of the Syndicate's property, for lunch or shopping, this and that. It was one of the few times where she found herself not minding that she wasn't working. But her sister had always been the only one she truly considered a friend.

Then came the escapade that would come to be called the Billion Yen Bank Heist. Her sister was to be a part of that team, though she was not entirely sure why. Akemi had never gone in for that kind of job before. Those were things usually done by those of a bit higher rank. But those were her instructions, and she would carry them out, it seemed. That was the way things worked.

She heard that the heist was a success in terms of the loot carried off. The Boss and the higher ups were surely very pleased. She ignored it and continued at her work, expecting one day to come home and find that message on her answering machine, suggesting that they grab a cup of coffee, a teasing remark as to whether or not she had found a boyfriend or not, and a cheerful request for a return call.

Instead, she got the news that her sister was dead, and at the hands of one of the Syndicate's most feared assassins. The details were few, but it seemed that something had gone wrong. Akemi had refused to turn over the money, something about trying to bargain through something…? It was all a jumble, and made very little sense to her.

The next morning, she called her laboratory and told them that she was sick and would not be coming in. It was the first time she had ever skipped a day of work. She spent that day curled up in bed in the darkness of her bedroom, trying desperately not to think about anything. But by the time the sun went down that night, she had made her decision.

When she went in the following day, she made a very simple demand of her superiors: she wanted to know why her sister had been killed. She knew how big of a risk it truly was, but there was no one left for her to care about, or to care about her. What did it matter, really?

So she refused to do any further work until she received an answer.

**_-o-_**

She remembers becoming a child for the second time.

The apotoxin she had created in her lab, with her own two hands. It was supposed to be a lethal, untraceable poison, though the final tests had not been conducted yet. When Gin had come for her, she had slipped a sample of the drug into the pocket of her coat as she rose from her desk; he had not noticed. Now she was here, handcuffed to a pipe to await her inevitable fate.

If she was fortunate, they would simply execute her. If she was not fortunate, she would be questioned as to the details of her research and her work, and if she did not come forward with the information immediately or accurately, she would be tortured. She had heard the screams of the tortured once when she was still very young, and she feared what went on in the room behind the massive steel door.

But for the moment she was alone. Which meant that she had a change to escape. If nothing else, it would be one last spite to Gin. One final way to spit in the face of the man who had murdered her sister and who would undoubtedly come for her soon enough. She knew of the man, and of his personality, and had realized that to deny him the joy of bloodlust and the rush of the kill was the best (and sometimes the only way) to get to him.

And if she died, perhaps she would be able to meet Akemi again.

There was a little voice in her head now, reminding her of the two anomalies that had happened during the course of this poison's development. The first was a lab rat, one that had not died, but merely changed to an infant; it otherwise stayed healthy. The second was a person who had been forcibly given the poison and then vanished without a trace.

Still, one rat against the dozens she had tested did not bode well for her odds. And she did not care.

Saying one last prayer, she swallowed the pill.

What happened next was unlike anything else she had ever experienced. Her body was on fire, she was sweating, and the world became white-hot and fiery. Her nails scrapped across the floor, her bound hand clawing at the air as she gasped and tried to see through the whiteness that swallowed her vision. Was this what it felt like to die? Was this what Akemi had felt?

When things cleared, she was not dead. But she was a great deal smaller. And her hand was free of the chain, having been small enough to slid right through it. She sat up and looked around the room, then down at herself. She was a child again, exactly like the transformation the rat had undergone. Her rational mind immediately classified this as just another anomaly in the experiment.

Her instincts told her to run.

She made one stop in the records room. It was far enough away from everything else that she could enter with little risk of being seen. She tapped into the database, and she edited one name, changing the status of one Kudo Shinichi from missing to dead.

If her hunch was correct, this would buy her (and possibly him) both time and opportunity.

Having done that, she fled the Syndicate and the laboratory that had been her home, her workplace, her solace and her sanctuary for so long. But there was no time for sentimentality or emotions. Every moment she lingered there was a moment closer to discovery and death.

She knew exactly where she was going. She just had to get there without being caught.

**_-o-_**

She remembers her first day of school.

Oh, she had taken classes before, and her studies had always been very important to her. She loved learning and finding new things and understanding them. But she had never taken her studies in a school like this. A real school, with real classmates and real teachers and real desks and everything like that. And nothing of the Syndicate to be seen anywhere.

She was looking for someone in particular, though. A fellow student. Male. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Glasses. She had a vague idea of what his face would look like as well, given that she had seen pictures of his adult self. It was just a matter of finding him.

The teacher introduced her to the class, though the name she gave was not her true one. She had not gone by her true name in far too long, save for one person who kept her grounded and reminded her that she had not always been Sherry. But that person was gone, and so was Sherry, and now only a pseudonym remained. A fake name for a fake child. It was only fitting.

The class started murmuring immediately, and she heard various boys commenting as to how cute she was. It made her feel strange. She had never had anyone really comment on her looks before, save again for that one person who teased her about how she would never find a boyfriend if she didn't dress up a bit. Oh well, it couldn't be helped. Children were children.

But at least being at the front of the room like this gave her an opportunity to look for her ultimate target, and look she did. And she spotted him rather quickly, sitting near the back. There was even an empty desk right beside him.

How convenient.

She ignored a large boy who was gesturing towards the vacant seat beside him and made her way to the desk beside the other boy. Ignoring the looks she got from the other students, she sat down. The bespectacled boy, whom she knew to be named one Edogawa Conan, was staring at her in surprise.

He didn't suspect a thing, it seemed.

And that was the way she wanted it for the moment.

**_-o-_**

She remembers when she first met the children.

Ayumi.

Genta.

Mitsuhiko.

They called themselves the Detective Boys. And, she observed, though Genta claimed to be the leader, they followed Edogawa around like a group of ducklings trailing after their mother. It was actually rather endearing, and a bit of a relief. For all that they seemed determined to make her their friend, they did not seem aware at all that there was anything unusual about her.

Perhaps they had noticed that she was a bit more aloof, and rather smart for her age, but to the rambunctious seven-year-olds those things mattered little. All they saw was a new girl at their school, and all they thought of was making sure that she was not lonely.

It was another one of those strange experiences, particularly for one who had tried so hard to keep her world small so as to keep out those with whom she did not want to associate. For a long time, her kingdom had extended to the walls of her lab. And she had liked it that way.

But now she was being swept up in a mystery. A student at the school had left a message asking for help, and the Detective Boys responded with enthusiasm, more or less. A bit less from Edogawa, to be fair. But he went along with it, acting for all the world like an older brother keeping an eye on his rowdy younger siblings. Given the way the children responded to this, it was part of their routine, and no one even batted an eye at it.

What followed was a rather interesting case that led them to a group of counterfeiters. Small-time crooks, she thought dryly. Nothing at all like what the Syndicate could have churned up. Still, they had kidnapped a boy, and Edogawa seemed bent on them, especially when he learned that the woman in charge wore black. Again, she shook her head and observed.

But when the moment came and the gun was in her hand, she recalled one of the lessons she had learned at a young age, and took her shot. It was almost insultingly easy, right on the mark. And to be honest, it was worth it for the look on Edogawa's face.

She realized that there were other instincts that were still beaten into her very being. When the police arrived, she trembled. They were the enemy, or so she had been taught. But overall, it seemed that the only trouble she was in was for firing the gun. The portly Inspector was scolding her for that and that alone, asking how she could do something so dangerous.

Before she really realized that she was doing it, she wrinkled up her face and put on the teary eyes and started to hiccup a bit. And sure enough, it worked. The man backpedaled furiously to comfort her and assure her that it was all right, at least no one was hurt, just don't do anything that reckless again.

…it almost surprised her, really. It seemed that this police officer was a good man.

But the best part came during the walk home with Edogawa Conan, when she told him who she was. And she just couldn't keep herself from messing with his head a bit by insinuating that the good professor was in some sort of mortal peril.

He was angry. She knew he would be. And she couldn't fault him for it.

…but the boy had already proven to be quite fun to play with.

**_-o-_**

She remembers when she became an adult again.

An encounter with a Syndicate member left her trapped, and she had precious few options. A quick conversation with Edogawa had given her a solution: drink a certain type of alcohol for a temporary reprieve. She knew to trust him now, and did as he said.

And again the world went white before her eyes and her body became engulfed in flames. She knew the risks, but there was no other alternative. If Gin came when she was like this, she had no way to fight, and it could give him a clue as to the location of his other missing victim, Kudo Shinichi. She had to suffer through the pain, just another part of the penance she would have to endure for her past sins.

Being back in an adult body was strange and alien after so much time spent as a child. It took her a moment to find her feet, and she secured herself clothing in the form of a spare janitor's jumpsuit. And she escaped from the room, wondering if she was actually home free.

She should have known better than to be so naïve. Gin was a far better hunter than that. And he tracked her up to the roof and fired. The first two shots were not killing blows, and she knew it. He was playing with her. She was cornered and defenseless and injured; her blood had already been spilled to stain the white snow. There was nothing she could do—

Light. She saw light, and heard a voice, and suddenly she had an escape. And she ran, ran from Gin and Vodka and the past and her memories and the horror of everything she had seen and heard…

By the time they got downstairs, she was already starting to undergo the change again. Edogawa hid her in a closet while she transformed back into her smaller body, and she collapsed in a shaking, terrified heap on the floor. Something covered her, and she cracked her eyes open to see that it was his jacket. He had wrapped it around her.

They had survived this encounter, by some miracle. She almost couldn't believe it.

**_-o-_**

She remembers the day Ayumi asked about her family.

They were walking home from school, having ditched the boys (as Ayumi put it) to have some quality girl time (as Ayumi also put it). It seemed a quaint thing, amusing and childish, but somehow all of Ayumi's little quirks managed to be so endearing. The child was innocent and eager and determined to be her best friend, no matter what.

They had gotten some juice and were sitting on a park bench, enjoying the beverages and the nice weather and watching the man on the opposite sidewalk wrestling with his stubborn dog when Ayumi spoke up and asked her if she missed her family.

It was an innocent question, really. Innocent curiosity. But it hit her like a punch in the chest.

Her family…

Akemi. Akemi was her family.

But Akemi was dead. Could she really explain that to Ayumi?

She looked at the girl. Ayumi was everything she was not. Ayumi was untainted and unaware of the truest cruelties of humanity. She had never known anyone like Gin, and knew nothing of such people. And despite her best efforts to remain aloof and not get too attached because she knew that such bonds were dangerous and that things could end at any time, the girl had walked right past her walls as if they did not exist, and taken her hand and pulled her along to go on all sorts of adventures.

And Ayumi was the only one permitted to call her by her first name, save for the professor. The adults did it simply because she was a child and that was the way of the world. Ayumi had express permission, the only one of the elementary school children to hold such a power.

Sighing, she told Ayumi that her only family was very far away, and she did not know if she would ever get to see them again. But, she added at the girl's crestfallen look, she was happy here. The professor was her family now, and Edogawa and Ayumi and the boys. That was all she needed to be happy.

It was a bit of a lie. To be truly happy would mean that there was no longer an enormous black shadow perched on her shoulder, ready to strike at any time to take her away, and to hurt those who she had dared to grow close to. To be truly happy would mean that she could restore Edogawa to Kudo and thus right that wrong. To be truly happy would mean that she was free of the Syndicate's last chains of fear.

But it was worth that little lie to see the girl smile, relieved. And it brought a genuine smile to her lips to hear the girl promise that no matter what happened, she would be her sister and her best friend, and they would always stick together.

It was official. Ayumi had gotten under her skin, and she had the feeling that it had changed her.

And she sincerely believed that she had been changed for the better.

**_-o-_**

She remembers when she realized it.

It was stupid, really, what made her realize it. They were at the professor's house; Edogawa had come over, as well as the three children. They were all sitting around, sipping drinks and listening to the good doctor talk about his latest experiment and offer them horrible riddles that inevitably made them all groan. All in all, it was a good afternoon.

What actually made her realize it at all was simply when Ayumi (sweet, innocent, eager Ayumi) held her glass up to the doctor with a wide smile and politely said, "May I have more to drink please?"

And for whatever reason, she broke.

She set her own glass down on the table and hopped from her chair and left the room, ignoring the startled questions following her and Edogawa's penetrating glance and the doctor's worried look. She walked until she was sure she was out of earshot before she sat down on the floor, her back against the wall, and curled up, her knees to her chest.

And she cried. She put her arms on her knees and pressed her face to them and just wept.

This was what it felt like to spend time with friends. With real friends, people who cared about her and her well-being and how her day was and all the little things that everyone she had known in the Syndicate had written off as being stupid or irrelevant. They did not know her as Sherry, a code-name of the Syndicate and therefore a good person to try and rub elbows with. They simply knew her as their classmate, a smart girl of foreign descent who lived with their good friend, the professor, and who went on cases with them and solved mysteries and liked to tease Conan-kun.

Even amongst children in the Syndicate, there was little time for playing or telling jokes or anything of that nature. Everything was business. The children were taught in accordance with the roles they were intended to fill, their minds shaped to fit the appropriate mold.

Light footsteps were coming towards her. If she had to guess, it would be Edogawa. Somehow, it didn't bother her too much to think that he might see her like this. Of the others, he was the one least likely to question simply because he understood the most. There was nothing that she needed to explain to him.

…perhaps that meant that he was her greatest friend after all. The one who had accepted her despite what her work had done to him and the pain that had been caused for him and those close to him by the poison she had been forced to create. He asked few questions anymore, and at times she saw his masks truly come down and she saw him as few others did.

In hindsight, that went both ways. There were only two other people who had seen her as he had and who had seen past her cool mask and cold demeanor. During her stay in his home, the professor had come to know her inside and out, and he had her complete trust as one would trust a favored uncle or beloved grandfather.

The other was her sister, Akemi.

She would find the antidote to the apotoxin, she resolved. Not for herself, per se. She had no family and no home to return to, whereas he had a whole slew of people eagerly awaiting his return. She would find it for him. She had made that her mission early on because she thought that perhaps it could make up for what her work had done to him. But now, after everything they had gone through...

Could finding the antidote even begin to repay him for everything? For looking out for her and protecting her and simply being her friend? No, she did not think so. But she would find the antidote for him as penance, and as repayment, and as a favor to a very dear friend.

That was to be her purpose now, and she would stay that course to its end. When she reached the end of that road, there had to be another one waiting for her. She just had to find it when the time came.

By the time he came into view, she had calmed herself and was ready to face the world again. Mitsuhiko commented worriedly that her eyes were red, but seemed relatively satisfied with her explanation that she had left because she had gotten something in her eye. And while Edogawa smiled approvingly at her choice of words, she turned to the professor and asked if he might regale her and her friends with another of his fine riddles.

Genta groaned.


	85. High Speed

**Title: **High Speed  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi, Ran (General series)  
**Prompt: **#65—passing  
**Word Count: **948 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Hell hath no fury like a mother defending her child.

* * *

"So where to next?" Shinichi asked as he turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared merrily to life in response, and he backed carefully out of the parking spot at the bank and put it in drive to head back towards the road.

In the passenger seat, Ran glanced down at her list and marked something off with her pen. "Let's see, we're done at the bank. Already went to the library and the pharmacy, so next…" She glanced up. "We need to stop at the eye doctor's. They called and said that your reading glasses have been fixed, so we can pick them up. And then we should go to the grocery store—they're having a sale on beef, so we might as well get some and freeze it, and we're out of laundry detergent. And then I would not say no to grabbing lunch on the way home." That last was said with an impish grin.

"As my lady wishes it, so shall it be," Shinichi grinned, earning a light swat on the arm from his amused wife. In the back seat, their six-month-old son Conan giggled at his parents and waved his arms around, as though agreeing. Whether he was agreeing with his mother's request for lunch or his father's goofy charm, though, remained to be seen.

There was certainly something to be said for a morning spent running errands as a family.

Ran reached out and clicked the radio on. "I feel like some music! And Shinichi, no singing."

He pretended to look hurt. "But you love it when I serenade you, right?"

"When the serenade consists of you putting on a CD and lip-synching. At least then nothing's going to start bleeding or breaking," she deadpanned, earning another laugh from the baby in the back.

She twisted the dial in search of a station, but paused when she heard what sounded like an official announcement on one of the local stations, and she paused to hear what it said. "—suspect is heading east on the highway. The high-speed chase is clocking in at well over one hundred and fifty kilometers an hour and has been in progress for nearly two hours. Police urge drivers to be cautious…"

"That doesn't sound good," Shinichi commented. "Escapee, maybe?"

"Just keep your eyes on the road. We're on the highway, thank you very much," Ran sighed, glancing towards the back seat yet again and smiling when she saw little Conan chewing merrily on his fingers.

"I'm familiar with this kind of chase," Shinichi said. "He'll stop when he runs out of gas. Two hours at that speed? He'll probably be stopping sooner rather than later."

"I think he'll stop when he hits something," Ran said flatly. "And that scares me."

Shinichi's attention diverted to the road as he flipped on his turn signal with the intention of passing the car in front of him, his mouth opened to reply. And then his eyes widened and he let out a loud squawk, unlike any sound she had ever heard pop out of his mouth before—

And then their car was being tossed and jostled around like beans in a maraca. Ran screamed as her vision was momentarily obscured by the airbag deploying. She heard grinding metal, a sound like nails on a chalkboard, squealing rubber, screaming sirens, and her baby screeching in the backseat.

And it was that last that took precedence over all else.

Ran shoved the airbag out of the way and looked through the cracked windshield. The car that had hit them was a dark blue one, facing the wrong direction for this side of the highway—why was that driver going the wrong way on the highway like that? Their vehicle was now perpendicular to it, keeping both cars trapped again the guard rails. And she could see the man inside that other car, shaking his head as though bewildered.

Conan was still wailing in the backseat.

Shinichi leaned back against his seat, gasping for air. He felt something wet on his cheek, and was somewhat startled (which was odd, given the circumstances) to realize that he was bleeding. His face hurt, and his son was—

And Ran—

He glanced back and saw Conan screaming, though seemingly unharmed. "Ran, are you—" he stopped in mid-sentence when he realized that Ran was not in the car beside him. Her door was open, and she was…crawling over the hood of their car? "Ran?"

And while Shinichi watched in open-mouthed amazement, Ran began hitting the driver's window of the other car. He could hear her screaming in a way she rarely did. "YOU GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED MY BABY! WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU—" The obscenities streaming out of her mouth were…well, highly creative was one way to put it. Possibly the nicest way.

Confused and a little bit in shock, Shinichi continued to watch as police cruisers swarmed the accident scene and surrounded both the wrecked cars. And the driver of the other car, who he now suspected to be the fugitive mentioned in that radio report they had just heard, was climbing out of the sunroof of the battered vehicle.

And Ran was still trying to get to him.

As the man was taken into custody and an ambulance pulled up and a paramedic knocked on his window to ask if he was all right, Shinichi couldn't help but think that the other driver had looked far more frightened of Ran than he had of the armed police officers surrounding him.

And frankly, Shinichi couldn't blame him a bit. For that, at least.

* * *

**PS.** _Inspired by a video I saw on TV. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	86. The Perfect Place

**Title: **The Perfect Place  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Yuusaku/Yukiko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#73—light  
**Word Count: **315 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **It was so simple, yet so brilliant. Yuusaku/Yukiko ficlet.

* * *

On a dreary, rainy day like this one, when she had no work to do (no photo shoots, no studio sessions, nothing of the sort), Yukiko found that there was something very relaxing about finding a comfortable chair in the local library and settling in with a good book. She was not a stupid woman, and she very much enjoyed keeping her mind sharp.

Especially considering who she was dating. She had to be on top of her game to keep the world-famous novelist in his world-famous place.

This particular library had a reading room, an open area scattered with chairs and tables. The walls were lined with expansive windows to let in the light or, as the case may be, give those sitting within a perfect view of the rain pelting against the glass. Yukiko glanced up from her book many times to gaze out at the storm and the accompanying thunder and lightning. It certainly made for a pleasant backdrop to the mystery novel in her hands.

She turned another page, and frowned as a shadow fell across her, making it difficult to read. She glanced up, and her frown turned to surprise when she saw who was blocking her light. "Oh, Yuusaku. What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting today."

He had a wet umbrella in one hand and a hat in the other, though he was still a bit damp. "I did."

"And?"

"I skipped it," he admitted with a shameless grin.

"…your editors are going to be out for your blood," Yukiko deadpanned.

"They already are. That's why I'm here," he sat down in the chair beside hers. "I'm hiding."

"You're hiding from your editors…in a library?" she repeated, incredulous.

"Exactly."

"…the last place they'll think to look. Which makes it the perfect place to hide."

"Precisely."

"That's a sick sort of genius."

"Why, thank you."

* * *

**PS.** _Yeah. Random. Not much else to say. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	87. Stereotypical

**Title: **Stereotypical  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Toichi, Nakamori (General series)  
**Prompt: **#19—white  
**Word Count: **677 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **What do you think the world's greatest thief would be like?

* * *

"Ginzo-san, I have an odd question."

The newly-promoted Police Inspector glanced up from his beer and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Kuroba Toichi shuffled the cards in his hands once, twice, three more times before he spoke again. "If you were to imagine the world's greatest thief, what would said thief be like?"

Nakamori lowered the can to the table and regarded his poker partner with a strange look that spoke volumes of dubious confusion at the admittedly unique query. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"What would he wear? How would he act? How would he go about stealing whatever target he was after?" Toichi elaborated. "Remember that he is to be the world's greatest thief."

"Are you considering a second job?" Nakamori couldn't resist the tease, especially because it was far too rare for him to be the one doing the teasing. "I thought there was good money in show business."

"There is indeed, but the idea struck me the other day, and I thought I would ask the trained professional for his professional opinion. What would be the characteristics of the world's greatest thief?" Toichi asked with great and unfeigned interest.

"Well, let's see…" Ginzo thought for a moment. "I imagine he would have to be someone stealthy, capable of getting in and out of a place without being seen or heard. If he's seen or heard, the chances increase that he'll be captured, correct?"

"It stands to reason."

"Along the same lines, I would say that when he's, ah, working, he would probably work at night and favor dark colors for clothing to blend in. It's easier to hide when you can camouflage yourself to your surroundings. Again, we're assuming that this person does not want to get caught."

"Again, logical enough."

"I also think he would be very careful to keep his targets as secret as his identity," the Inspector drummed his fingers on the table as he spoke. "If they knew what he was stealing, they would beef up the security, which would make his job a great deal more difficult. A thief usually doesn't want to take anymore risks than are absolutely necessary, so they'd want to strike in secret when there are as few people around as possible to get away with the greatest possible amount."

"Interesting. So you imagine someone who shuns the spotlight, wears black so he can stay in the shadows, and keeps everything as secret as possible?" Toichi chuckled, turning the cards in his hands. "I thought I said a thief, Ginzo, not a ninja."

"It's remarkable how often those two could overlap," Nakamori said dryly as he gestured for Toichi to deal another hand, already putting the odd conversation from his mind as another flight of fancy on the part of his imaginative friend.

**_-o-_**

Not long afterwards, a new criminal appeared on the streets of Tokyo.

Or rather, in the air above the streets of Tokyo.

This man wore an outfit of elaborate white, made all the more conspicuous by his interesting accessory choices of hat and cape and monocle. He sent notes in advance, detailing the time and location of his heists, and turned what should have been serious affairs and displays of blatant crime into grand spectacles of magic and showmanship to be appreciated by the ever-growing crowd of fans who gathered in the streets below.

And the police taskforce assigned to the case, headed by Nakamori Ginzo, could not touch him, no matter how much security they added or how many traps they laid for the brazen bandit in white. Even with forewarnings of his intended targets, he always still managed to give them the slip.

As the harried Inspector stood on the street one afternoon overseeing plans for that evenings heist prevention measures, he recalled a discussion with a good friend over a game of cards as to what the world's greatest thief would be like. He had described the stereotypical image of such a person, and soon after found himself faced with the exact opposite.

Could it possibly be…?

…nah.

* * *

**PS.** _I realize that this is totally bending canon, since it's been inferred that Kaitou Kid was already running around when Kaito and Aoko met and the two families became friends. But the mental image was just too much fun to ignore. So I wrote it. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	88. Out of This World

**Title: **Out of This World  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi, Ran, Yuusaku, Yukiko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#53—earth  
**Word Count: **3595 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Shinichi wished his parents had told him this BEFORE they left the planet's surface.

* * *

The phone rang, and Ran answered it, speaking for a second before calling, "Conan-kun! Phone!"

There was only a limited number of people it could be, he knew. Agasa. Haibara. The three children who called themselves the Shounen Tantei. Possibly someone from the police, but that was rather unlikely. Or it could possibly be…

"Ah, Shin-chan!" Yukiko's voice trilled through the receiver.

He winced and resisted the urge to jerk away. If Ran heard it, he was in deep kimchee. Frowning and fighting to keep himself calm and composed, he replied, "Don't call me that. You know better."

"Oh, you're no fun," she said, and he could actually picture her pouting in his mind. Still, she was as resilient as ever, and went on quickly. "But listen, your father and I are at the house, and we'd love to see you. Could you stop by today? I know it's short notice, but…well, we're leaving this evening."

Something about her tone and the way she said those final words, _we're leaving this evening_, gave him pause. And he had the sudden, strange inkling that there was something he wasn't being told. "Why so soon? Where are you going?" he asked, both seeming like relatively safe, neutral questions.

"Shin-chan, please just come by as soon as you can."

And to his amazement, she hung up on him.

Conan stared at the receiver in his hand for a moment, barely hearing its melodious beeping or Ran calling his name and asking what he was doing and was everything all right. His parents did have a sad, annoying tendency towards the cryptic, but this was out there even for them.

And the worst part was that he knew exactly why his mother had done that in the manner she had. She dropped the bug in his ear and left him hanging, secure in the knowledge that his curiosity would not allow him peace until he had investigated and discovered whatever it was that she was hiding. And she was right, infuriatingly enough. He had to know what was going on.

He hung up the phone and gave Ran his best and biggest Happy Little Boy Smile before announcing that he was going over to Agasa's house for a while and would probably be back in time for dinner, but if he was going to be late he would call. Somehow, though, she didn't look terribly convinced, and tried to ask who that phone call was from and was he really going to Agasa's and maybe she should walk him there.

It was only due to luck, determination, and a bout of extremely selective hearing that he got his shoes on and made it out the door without having to answer that potent little question. Ran was left staring at the closed door, wondering what in the world was going on.

**_-o-_**

In hindsight, Shinichi realized that maybe he shouldn't have been stupid enough to let his overwhelming curiosity lead him to his former doorstep and right into his parents' waiting hands.

Of course, he only realized this gargantuan mistake after he smelled the drug being held beneath his nose. His mind, already enveloped in that pleasant haze, was barely able to register the odor as a sleeping drug, though he was unable to recall the name of it before he lost the fight for consciousness and slipped away into innocent slumber.

He dreamt happily of orange peels, though he didn't quite know why.

When he woke up again, he was…wait, where the hell was he?

When the little naptime drug had taken effect, he had been just inside the doorway of his family's home. Now he was lying on a table or a gurney of some sort, in a room with walls seemingly made of computers. There were blinking lights everywhere, and he could hear a low, steady beeping noise.

To be honest, it looked like something out of a science fiction movie.

And it was about to get a whole lot stranger.

There was a metallic whooshing sound nearby, and he immediately whipped around to find the source of it. Namely, a pair of doors sliding open to allow a person passage through them before sliding shut once again with that same odd hissing noise. The person was a woman with neatly styled brown hair, dressed in some sort of dark green uniform. She approached the gurney and actually bowed before smiling at him. "Ah, you have awakened. Excellent."

Shinichi blinked at her, confused. In the back of his mind, he was starting to wonder if maybe the Black Organization had finally caught up to him and this was all some sort of trick or trap and they were now going to start performing all sorts of horrendous experiments on him and—

"If you are able to walk, Highness, please come with me."

…that stopped his thought processes cold. _Highness?_

This was getting weirder and weirder by the second.

Still, he hopped down from the table, wobbling only slightly as he landed shakily on his feet. The woman began to lead him back towards the doors, which again parted and closed behind them with twin hissing noises to mark the movement. Now they were out in an arched corridor. The whole place seemed to be made of metal with a whole lot of blinking lights everywhere.

If Shinichi didn't know better, he would have thought that he was on some sort of spaceship.

"So, ah…who are you?" he finally asked the woman after they had been walking side by side for a moment or two. She was actually slowing her steps to account for his shorter legs, and for that alone he was perfectly willing to like the woman, stranger that she was to him.

"A humble servant, Highness," she said with that same smile.

"…why do you keep calling me Highness?" Shinichi asked.

"Ah. They said you did not know of it. Well, I will let His Majesty explain it to you," she said.

"Who is that?"

Another pair of doors opened, this one revealing a large domed room decorated all in blue and gold. In the center of the room was a round table, and standing beside that table, leaning over it to study some papers spread across it, were—

"SHIN-CHAN!"

_GLOMP!_

Before he could even react, Shinichi found himself being hoisted off his feet and squeezed far too tightly for comfort. "M-Mom?" he gaped. "Wh-what are you doing here? Where are we?" He kicked and wriggled until she was forced to let go of him and put his feet back on the ground. "What's going on?"

Yuusaku appeared behind Yukiko. "Shinichi, calm down. You're making a scene."

"…well, what the hell do you expect??" he asked loudly. "You drug me and drag me to…to wherever the hell this is without a word of explanation, and you expect me to be calm? And…and…" He paused. "…and what are you wearing?"

"Oh, this?" Yukiko giggled and modeled her dark blue ensemble. "It was a gift from the crew. Lovely, isn't it? After all, if we're going to the planet, we should look the part!"

"…planet?" Shinichi said. He had a very bad feeling about this.

It seemed like everyone in the world (as the case may be) was determined to keep Shinichi from getting any sort of answers because the doors opened behind him and he was nearly run over by an excited man in a white coat. "We have it!" the man squeaked. "It is ready!"

"Excellent, and thank you," Yuusaku said with a smile before turning to his stupefied son. "Shinichi, come along. Let's take care of this first." He strolled towards the doors, following the man.

"I'm not getting an explanation until I do this, am I?"

"No. Not at all."

The man led them to yet another room a few doors over. This one looked like a mad scientist's laboratory, with vials and odd gadgets and all sorts of other things scattered around the room. He could only imagine Ran trying to organize this place, as it was worse than most of her father's messes.

The white-coated man produced a small blue case and handed it to Yuusaku. "Our tests show that this should take care of the matter as you requested," he said in that same high, thin voice.

Yuusaku promptly passed the case to Shinichi. "Take this."

A glance inside the case proved that there was a single pill inside. "You want me to take this?"

"Yes."

"…why?"

"The scientists on board have been working nonstop on your condition since we brought you onto the ship. This is the antidote," he said matter of factly.

"…how long have I been on board?"

"About two hours."

"Haibara's been working on this for months!"

"Shinichi. Take the pill if you would like any sort of explanation."

"…fine."

Yukiko giggled.

**_-o-_**

The transformation was just as painful as Shinichi remembered it, and he recalled exactly why he was so thankful that he would usually lose consciousness partway through the actual change. Still, when he opened his eyes, he found himself alone in the room with a small pile of fabric next to him. A closer inspection proved that these were clothes, of a similar style to the ones his parents were wearing. They were certainly nothing he had ever seen in Tokyo.

…but as his only other option was nudity, and he had a strong sense of both decency and modesty, he pulled the clothes on. They were definitely interesting, but not uncomfortable. Once he was properly attired, he went in search of his parents with every intention of punching his father in the nose.

He located his parents in the room with the table, conversing with a man wearing an official-looking hat. When he entered, the man bowed to him and took his leave, leaving Shinichi alone with his parents. "Okay, what the hell is going on?" he asked, trying to fight off the last remnants of dizziness that were trying to make him tip over sideways.

"Shin-chan, maybe you should sit down?" Yukiko suggested, taking his hand and guiding him towards an oddly-shaped chair that proved to be far more comfortable than it looked. "Now, you have questions—"

"Highness!" the man with the hat burst back into the room, his face red and alarmed. "There is an intruder on board this ship! And she seems to be searching for someone—she is plowing through everyone, and—"

"CONAN-KUN?"

Shinichi froze. He knew that voice…

Sure enough, Mouri Ran skidded into view, her fists clenched and her eyes blazing. "Where is Co…nan…" she trailed off when she saw who was in the room. Namely, a very confused Kudo Shinichi and his very startled parents. Ran froze, then straightened. "Sh-Shinichi?"

…why did he have the feeling that things had just gotten even worse?

**_-o-_**

It took several minutes to calm Ran down, and even longer to calm the rest of the crew on the ship, most of whom were frightened out of their wits. She sat silently in the room with Shinichi while his parents went out to handle things, her hands folded in her lap. Somehow, she had apparently done something very wrong.

In the interim, Shinichi asked her how she had come to end up on this ship.

Ran flushed, but told the story. She had been a bit concerned about Conan's evasiveness regarding what was going on and where he was off to. So after the boy had left, she had decided to go after him and see what the deal was. When she had arrived on the appropriate block, she'd had to walk past the Kudo house to get to Agasa's. And she had seen Conan, seemingly unconscious, being carried into a strange silver vehicle of some kind.

Fearing the worst, she had followed him on board, determined to find and rescue her young charge.

And now she was apparently in space, heading towards some unknown planet.

As her story drew to a close, she gave Shinichi a suspicious look and asked if he knew where Conan was.

When no rescue came, he sighed. She would turn the place upside down to find the kid. That was Ran. Stubborn and determined and unafraid of any potential danger when it came to protecting those dear to her. She had seen Conan enter the ship, although not of his own free will, so saying that Conan wasn't on board would probably just make her more suspicious.

…it seemed that the gig was up.

Ran listened to the story very, VERY quietly, her hands fidgeting in her lap. And she was quiet long after he had finished by explaining that apparently someone on board this ship had been able to figure out an antidote within the space of a couple of hours, as opposed to Haibara working on it for months and having precious little success.

Just as Shinichi was about to speak up again, the doors slid open and a rather amused-looking Yukiko entered. "Ran-chan, you've certainly made an impression on the crew!" the former actress trilled, causing the poor girl to blush. "But I think we have everything calmed down. Now you wanted to know what's going on, right?"

"Please!" Shinichi exploded, thankful that something was finally happening to relieve some of the tension. "Just tell me—err, us what's going on already!"

"I should wait for your father, but I suspect he's busy convincing the Council Representatives that Ran is not a danger or a threat to anyone," she chuckled before focusing on her son. "Shin-chan, there's something you should know."

"What's that?"

"You're only half-human."

"…what?"

Yukiko absently twirled a lock of hair around her finger, betraying nerves that her face and posture did not reflect. "I am a full-fledged human, and I was born on Earth. Your father, however, was not. "

"…you have got to be joking."

"It's not a joke, Shin-chan. And I'll go you one better," Yukiko said with a grin. "He's actually a prince."

"…would you just explain the whole damn story?" Shinichi said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He was starting to get one hell of a headache.

"Yuusaku was born on the planet Iamsmarterthanjoo, home of the Smartarian race. He was the only son of the ruling family," Yukiko explained, ignoring the incredulous look her child was giving her. "He had to leave when the Council got upset because he skipped one too many meetings, and so he hopped in a ship and went planet-hopping for a while."

…somehow, Shinichi had to admit that a lot of this sounded very much like his father.

"When he landed on Earth, he realized that Earthlings knew how to have a good time, and decided to crash there for a while. Not long after that, he and I met. And we fell in love and got married and had you, and we've been living quite happily on Earth ever since."

"Wait, wait, wait! You knew about this?"

"Of course I did," Yukiko smiled. "He told me not long after he proposed. I had a right to know exactly who I was ultimately going to marry. But as I'm sure you can guess, it didn't bother me." She tapped her finger thoughtfully against her chin. "Although it was a little strange to think that I'd technically be a princess when we did get married…"

"So wait, wait, wait!" Shinichi waved a hand in the air. "You're telling me that Dad's an alien?"

"Yes."

"…even after all those times he told me there was no such thing as ghosts or UFOs?"

"…well, to be fair, UFO does stand for Unidentified Flying Object," Yukiko said smoothly, "and to Yuusaku, they were not unidentified. He knew exactly what they were. So it wasn't technically a lie."

"…I hate you both."

"We love you too."

"E-excuse me…" Ran spoke up, the first time she had interjected into this conversation. "So…he's been on Earth all this time. Why are you going back to the planet now?"

Yukiko's expression saddened. "A messenger arrived. Yuusaku's father, the king…he has passed away. The message was from his mother, asking that he return as soon as possible to Iamsmarterthanjoo to help set affairs in order. Because his mother is not a young woman, and her health is failing. Yuusaku is next in line for the throne, so he must decide if he will take it, or abdicate and choose another heir."

"…so why am I being dragged along on this little joyride?" Shinichi deadpanned.

"Your grandmother wanted to meet you at least once before she passed," Yukiko said. "And furthermore, whether you like it or not, you are yourself technically a prince as well. It might happen that when you are there, you will be crowned."

"But I don't want to live on another planet!" he said indignantly. "I like Earth just fine!"

"Oh, hush. Just think of it as an adventure."

"…like your driving?"

"Quiet, you. Ran-chan," Yukiko turned to the girl, her face and voice apologetic. "I am sorry that you had to get wrapped up in all of this. It was not our intention. But since you are here, you know the truth. Shin-chan is half-human and half-alien. I hope that doesn't bother you."

"…well, it certainly does explain a lot."

"Hey!"

Yuusaku chose that moment to come back in, accompanied by two men. He looked somewhere between harried and amused. "You're not going to believe what the Council representatives just told me. Apparently, there's a bit of a plan in the works."

"What about?"

"Shinichi, actually."

"Me?" he squeaked.

"Well, you are next in line for the throne," Yuusaku said airily. "And they accept that you have the proper qualifications to be the ruler of our great people. However, they are also planning to marry you off to a full-blooded Smartarian noble as soon as possible to bring the bloodline a bit closer back to home, if you understand."

"Wait, WHAT?" Shinichi jumped to his feet, hands clenched into fists at his sides; he was only half aware that Ran had done the same. "No way! It's bad enough that I'm getting dragged halfway across the universe with half an explanation as to why, but now you're telling me that I'm going to be marrying some complete stranger because a group of guys I've never met said I have to?"

"More or less."

"Like hell."

With a whooshing sound, the metal doors parted once again, and two men scurried in. "Ah," Yuusaku gestured. "These are the Council representatives."

"I hate them already," Shinichi said in a flat voice.

"Shinichi, behave," Yukiko warned.

One of the men, the taller of the two, looked like he was going to say something, but froze when he saw Ran. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before taking a step back. "Y-you!"

Ran looked lost for a moment; then the light came on. "Oh, I ran into you in the hallway!"

"You hit me with a chair!" the man said, pointing an accusatory finger.

"You tried to grab me," she said simply. "I panicked."

Shinichi could barely suppress a chuckle at the mental image of Ran going WWF on a random alien person with a space chair. It was one of those moments he wished he could have seen first hand.

"Highness," the shorter of the two men addressed Yuusaku in a high, frightened voice. "This…this woman cannot be allowed to roam freely on the ship. She is a menace, a danger to us all! She must be placed under imprisonment immediately."

Ran paled.

"Ran-chan?" Yuusaku raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't think that's necessary. I think it was a bit of a misunderstanding. Besides," now the look in his eyes turned mischievous, "I highly doubt that Shinichi will stand for that. He's rather fond of her." A grin. "Possibly with intention to marry."

Now it was Shinichi's turn to have all the color drain from his face.

"M-marry?" Short gaped. "B-but she is not of the blood, and—" He froze when he saw the look on Ran's face. She had stepped up and placed a hand on Shinichi's arm, and was giving the Councilman a look that just dared him to disagree with her. "…I will ask the rest of the Council."

They all but fled the room.

Shinichi gave his father a glare that could have killed a small animal or child. "Are you trying to make me hate you, or are you really this ignorant?"

Yuusaku's eyebrow arched a bit higher. "Are you saying you'd rather be married off to a stranger?"

"Err…"

"I thought as much."

The conversation more or less died there, with Ran hanging onto Shinichi's arm and Yukiko and Yuusaku both looking extremely amused by the whole proceedings.

When the two Councilmen came back, they looked extremely cowed. "The Council had decided that perhaps it would be best for the young prince to wed the girl of Earth."

"W-WHAT?" Shinichi's jaw crashed to the floor at his feet. Not that he really minded marrying Ran or anything, but the announcement just added to the overwhelming feeling of 'what the hell?' that had plagued his entire day so far. This was not happening…

"We explained the situation, and this is the decision we have come to."

"But…but…"

Ran smiled sweetly. "I accept."

"The reasoning is simple, Highness," Tall Councilman said to Shinichi. "…no one wants to tell her no."

* * *

**PS.** _This fic exists for a few reasons. First, this was a comment session I had with someone on LJ a long time ago, and it just kept demanding to be ficced. Secondly, I realized that I hadn't done any weird crack in this challenge, and sought to remedy it. Thirdly, I didn't feel like writing something had a point or flowed together in any pleasant or coherent sense. And finally, it gave me the chance to use the phrase "space chair" in context. Bliss :D_

_Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	89. The Apartment: Things They Learned

**Title: **The Apartment: Things They Learned  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#38—touch  
**Word Count: **1206 words  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **As their relationship progressed, they began to discover new things. Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

Kazuha's feet were always cold.

Always.

And it seemed that nothing could be done about it.

It could be a toasty summer night, warm and humid, and her toes would be as cold as snow. And it was even worse because she did not like wearing socks to sleep. She could put them on before going to bed, but nine times out of ten she would wake up in the morning and find that she had kicked them off in the night and her feet were exposed and frozen.

Heiji had known that it was sort of a chronic condition for her, as she had mentioned it before. But it took on a whole new meaning when he was sleeping next to her, pressed against her. His toes always inevitably wound up finding hers beneath the bedding.

And when their feet would touch, his reaction was almost always the same. He would yelp or hiss, and make some sort of a comment about it. She would glare or give him a halfhearted push and offer a reply asking how he thought she felt about it, or suggesting that perhaps he find someplace else to sleep if it bothered him so much. Her usual suggestion was that he take up residence on the couch.

He never did. He never left the bed because of it. Heiji loved waking up next to her, the feeling of her form curled beside him, how his first breath of morning air carried her scent. He loved it all.

He just wished sometimes that her feet weren't so damn cold.

**_-o-_**

Heiji always wore pajamas.

After they started sleeping together, and sex became a regular part of their lives and their relationship, it seemed sort of silly to her. Especially if she was already in bed, waiting. He would inevitably crawl in next to her wearing a pair of boxers, at the very least.

When she asked him about it one night, he simply shrugged and said that he had always done that. It was a habit, and he felt strange if he didn't. It wasn't anything he'd ever really thought about, save for the times when she had impatiently told him to hurry up.

When he suggested that he did enjoy the part where she removed the garments in question and that she enjoy that part as well, she huffed and gave him a swat on the arm and rolled over with the intent of sleeping. He snuggled up next to her, laughing, and she tried very hard to keep pouting.

Even though, in spite of herself and her righteous indignation at his statement, she had to agree. She did rather enjoy that part. But still, pride was pride. So a couple of nights later, she came to bed wearing a little number she had found at a specialty store. It consisted mostly of straps, with solid fabric in the crucial areas. Kazuha simply lay back and let him go insane trying to figure out how to get it off of her while she giggled and toyed with his T-shirt.

If he was going to tease, then he was going to work for it as well.

**_-o-_**

Kazuha could not sleep with her shoulders uncovered.

It was one of the strangest sleeping habits Heiji had ever seen, and one that he was not aware of until they began sharing sleeping space. When the time came for proper sleep, she would always wiggle around until she got the sheet or blanket pulled up to her neck; only then would she let herself drift off.

On occasion, it was even a little uncomfortable because it meant that the blanket would try to creep its way up to his chin as well, and that was not how he liked his blankets. But he usually just tried to maneuver into a comfortable arrangement while still keeping an arm around the cocoon of blankets beside him that held his girlfriend.

At first, Heiji assumed it to be just a habit, although an extremely odd one. But eventually, curiosity got the best of him, and he asked if there was some reason behind it. To his surprise, there was.

Kazuha blushed a little, but told him that she had watched a vampire move as a child. And it had scared her enough to give her nightmares. At some point, she had happened upon a rather silly idea: if the vampires couldn't see her neck, they couldn't bite it, right? So she would sleep with the blankets pulled up to her chin to protect herself from things that would bite in the night. Eventually, it just became a habit, and she never saw a reason to break it.

Heiji couldn't help but laugh. And the following night, he made sure she was tucked in just right.

**_-o-_**

Heiji liked back massages.

That in and of itself wasn't really a newsflash to her, as she had given him backrubs here and there with some frequency. When he was working or worried or nervous or upset, the tension went straight to his shoulders and neck. The massages were usually quick, tackling the biggest knots only.

It was one night after a particularly tough case, when he came home tense enough that he could barely move, that she noticed something. He was sprawled on his stomach on the floor, with her straddling his back and working the knots and kinks out of the muscles as a movie played in the background. The scene was intimate and comfortable and relaxed.

As Kazuha kneaded a tense spot in his upper arm, she felt something move under her leg. She frowned, shrugged it off, and went back to what she was doing, only to feel that same odd movement again. It almost felt like something was twitching. On a whim, she pressed that same spot.

This time, Heiji let out a soft yelp and asked her to stop that.

Kazuha couldn't help but giggle. Apparently pressing that spot on Heiji's back made a muscle in his leg twitch? Well, if that wasn't just the strangest thing…chuckling to herself, she gave him another poke there and listened to him curse under his breath before she went about business as usual.

**_-o-_**

It was the little things, the tiny quirks and the odd habits that one would not see unless one was there at the right moments—the private moments hidden from the rest of the world.

How Kazuha would always tilt her head to the left while brushing her hair, yet tilt her head to the right while brushing her teeth.

How Heiji would always put his toothbrush on the left side of the sink, and panic if it was moved.

How Kazuha would lay out an outfit for the following day before going to bed at night, and then awaken the next morning and loudly ask herself what she had been thinking and choose something else.

How Heiji would shake the orange juice exactly six times before pouring a glass to drink.

Such were the things that kept their relationship interesting. Even though they had known each other for their entire lives, there were always new things for them to learn about each other.

* * *

**PS.** _This was supposed to be longer, but the plunnie decided to run away from home before I could get any further. I sort of hate to say it, but there is only one more Apartment fic after this one. The finale of the series, as it were. Hope you'll tune in. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	90. Inspiration

**Title: **Inspiration  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Yuusaku, Toichi (General series)  
**Prompt: **#41—shapes  
**Word Count: **624 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **He couldn't help but let the idea flourish. After all, ideas do come from the strangest places. A Yuusaku ficlet.

* * *

Being in a position of relative prestige granted one the opportunity to meet a lot of very interesting people from all walks of life, including some of the elite in any number of fields. Such was this party, a selection of the crème de la crème from various circles of society.

For Kudo Yuusaku, a respected detective and novelist reputedly searching for his newest inspiration, it was to prove quite an interesting night indeed. For it was that night that he met the famed magician, Kuroba Toichi, seated at the same table for dinner as Yuusaku and his wife Yukiko.

Theirs was immediately an odd acquaintance, for both were the competitive sort. They were both sharp of mind and wit, and masters of saying one thing while possibly meaning another. And they were both brilliant in their chosen fields. Yukiko even commented that each could probably do the other's job with relatively little effort, they were so very similar.

The conversation was light, intelligent, and filled with potential insinuations and double-meanings, particularly as the real personalities beneath the smile and fame began to emerge. Yuusaku thought he recognized something very interesting in the magician. Something that reminded him a great deal of a most unusual thief he had chased on a few occasions across the city's rooftops…

On a whim, Yuusaku turned the conversation to the criminal in question.

The reaction and responses he got from his dinnertime companion were very telling, to the novelist's mind. And there was a distinct glimmer in Kuroba Toichi's eye that revealed he was a man tracing the scent of a challenge, hot on the trail of a game in which the stakes were honor and pride and the only game pieces were logic and intelligence.

How very interesting…

Judging by Toichi's response, he thought it was interesting as well.

That night, Yuusaku and Yukiko returned home and relieved an exhausted Agasa of his babysitting duties. Shinichi was a toddler, and an energetic and curious one at that, and the boy had to be watched almost constantly to keep him from getting into things he shouldn't.

They put Shin-chan to bed and set about seeking their own rest. But as Yukiko commented on how fascinating the conversation with Kuroba-sensei had been and how she would certainly not mind learning some of the tricks of his trade, Yuusaku found himself thinking over the discussion they had engaged in that night, of the thief who sent messages ahead of time and seemed to appear out of the moonlight itself and vanish into the night with the target in his hand without ever being touched by a human hand, giving rise to rumors that he was not human at all…the thief that Yuusaku himself had inadvertently named courtesy of someone else's sloppy handwriting…

And the interesting conversation with Kuroba Toichi, especially when they noted that the white thief never harmed anyone, and an offhanded comment from the magician about how different the stakes would be should the thief in question be willing to hurt or kill for his targets…

In the back of Yuusaku's mind, an idea was beginning to take shape. A very fascinating idea…

It was not long after that society party that a new book hit the market, an instant best-seller in the world of fiction. A mystery and adventure surrounding a mysterious masked thief who stole out of the shadows and made off with his target, whose face no one knew and whose identity was known only to the night and the silence and the host of stars.

And Kudo Yuusaku simply smiled when asked how he had come by the idea for the Night Baron, and replied that sometimes inspiration came from the strangest of places.

* * *

**PS.** _In which I continue to bend canon so it will dance to my plunnies. DANCE, I SAY! Erm, yes. So. This is number ninety! Only ten more and this challenge is frakkin' DONE! Hope you'll stay tuned. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	91. Exception to the Rule

**Title: **Exception to the Rule  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Ran (General series)  
**Prompt: **#98—writer's choice  
**Word Count: **308 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **There's a little bit of good in everyone. Right?

* * *

Ran's mother was a lawyer, and as such the girl had been instilled with a strong sense of right and wrong from a very early age. She knew about law and justice and the power of evidence, and the principle of a person being innocent until proven guilty. She had also been taught that there was good in everyone, no matter how bad the person's crimes.

However…

She had also found, during the course of her own experiences in day to day life, that her mother had forgotten about something. Or was perhaps unaware of this something, the exception to the rule.

Amidst the screaming sirens and chaos of what had started as a class field trip, a handful of girls (all of an elementary school age) faced a handful of boys of a similar age. Ran's attention was focused in particular on one, Kudo Shinichi, her best friend. Though she really did not want to claim him as such right now. He was not the primary culprit this time, but more of an accomplice.

That was the only reason that he had been allowed to keep breathing.

The ringleader of the boys would not be so lucky, it seemed, as he faced off with the girl heading up the angry female pack. "Okay, explain this to us one more time. They told us specifically to leave it alone. So why did you press the button?"

The boy in question grinned, unashamed and unafraid of his imminent demise. "Because it was there!"

Shinichi snickered, but fell silent when Ran gave him a glare that could have frozen the water pouring from the fire hoses. He then coughed and averted his eyes to something that was not Ran.

Ran sighed. Innocent until proven guilty? A little bit of good in everyone?

Obviously, her mother didn't know anything about boys.

* * *

**PS.** _…I think this was a lot funnier in my head. Oh well. Thanks for reading!_


	92. Unable to Breathe

**Title: **Unable to Breathe  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi/Ran (General series)  
**Prompt: **#11—red  
**Word Count: **1222 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **There was a red thread of fate there. She could see it. And yet… Shinichi/Ran

* * *

From the time she was very young, Ran knew that her feelings for Shinichi were different from the feelings she held for other people and more importantly, other boys. Granted, she had known Shinichi her entire life, so there was a history there that was much different than with the others.

But it was something else, too. He was different from others. He was smarter, more polite, more polished. He knew things the others did not, and it showed in the very way he spoke and carried himself. A lot of that was his family, though. His parents were both famous and highly cultured people, and they were teaching him much of what they knew.

…granted, Shinichi was also a good deal more arrogant than the other boys she knew.

But somehow, it did not bother her as much as it might have if it were anyone else because Ran had seen what lay under that ego, the real Shinichi. They were things that became more and more evident to her as they grew up, still together. Things that she doubted anyone else would notice, anyone who knew him to a lesser degree than she did.

Shinichi was brilliant, cultured, and he knew how to carry himself in a way that made everyone take him seriously, even adults. He was a rising star on the soccer field, and could hold his own against players older and more seasoned than himself. The image he presented was bordering on perfect, the very picture of capability and talent. Beneath that façade, though, lay a very different young man.

That was the boy who had gotten his next door neighbor (a scientist and inventor) to modify the back of his closet to include a hidden compartment where he could hide cat food for the cats he secretly kept in their back yard, knowing his father would probably not approve.

That was the boy who could converse with any number of people about any number of topics, but could rarely find the words to voice his feelings to those close to him.

That was the boy who would tease her to no end, but be the first one to offer her a willing ear and a sometimes slightly less willing but still readily available shoulder when things got bad for her.

That was the boy who presented the most confident face in the world, but who in private moments was one of the shyest, most insecure nerds she had ever met in her life.

He was a walking enigma of sorts, a puzzle not unlike the ones he took such pleasure in solving.

There was a strange feeling of power in knowing that she knew such things about him, things that no one else was aware existed. But at the same time, what would she do with those things? And they were best friends, and best friends did not tell such secrets.

…no. They were not best friends.

There was something else there.

It was like the fairy tales she had grown up hearing, of how the fair maiden fell in love with the knight, or the old story about the red string of fate that tied two people together when they were destined to be.

Long before they started high school, Ran was already sure of her feelings.

What she wasn't sure of was him. How did he feel?

Time and time again she could have asked, and time and time again she faltered and failed. And each time, she glanced down at her little finger, and swore she saw the red string tied there, and decided that it would be all right, it would come in time, and she just had to be patient.

…and then, during their second year of high school, Shinichi vanished.

If Conan hadn't fallen into her life then, she might not have made it for as long as she had. But the little boy now in her care gave her something to focus on, someone to mother and worry about and put her attention on, as well as someone to talk to and confide in about her missing friend.

In short, she had been blessed to receive both a distraction and a confidante in one small body.

But still, she couldn't help but wonder about Shinichi and what had happened to him. She still did not know how he felt about her, or if he even felt anything for her at all. Oh, she was sure he did, but there was a difference between a man's love of a friend, his love of a sister, and his love of a woman. Three very different, very distinct types of love, and while she was sure that she held at least one of them, she did not know which it was.

During private moments, she would glance down at her hand and she would again see the red thread tied there. But it was killing her to not know where the other end went. The other end was tied around someone else's hand, and that someone was far away. She wished there was a way to follow the thread to that person and learn the truth at last, but some wishes did not want to come true for her.

It hurt desperately to lose both her best friend and her love. And in some of her darker moments, she let herself bear a new wish: that she might cut the thread and be done with the whole thing, be free of the pain and the worry and the uncertainty. It was entirely possible that she was waiting for someone who did not want her and would not come back to her.

…or she could be waiting for the true love of her life, and if she would just be patient a little longer, the rewards would far eclipse the ache she had been living with since that day at Tropical Land.

He would call, and they would talk. He always sounded so lonely. On rare occasions, he would even admit to it, admit that he missed her and he wished he could come home and see her again. But for both their sakes, he said, he could not do that yet. Just a little longer.

A little longer…

Those phone calls calmed her, gave her a reason to keep holding on to hope. He was lonely, and he wanted to see her. But for her sake, he couldn't. The statement frightened her as to all the possible interpretations it brought, but she could never bring herself to ask exactly what he meant by it. The uncertainty of it all hurt.

She was frightened for him, and for herself, sometimes to the point where she was unable to breathe. But she had Conan to care for, and her father, and her friends. She put on her happiest face for them, no matter how hard it was to do, and went about her life as best she could.

And so Ran waited for him, patient as ever. Yet she would inevitable find herself clinging desperately to that red thread of fate as her final connection to the man she had given her heart to. The red thread of fate was her bond to Shinichi.

Even though sometimes she felt like it was strangling her.

* * *

**PS.** _This entire fic spawned from that last line. It hit me at work, and it wouldn't let go, so I wrote it. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	93. Bad Omens

**Title: **Bad Omens  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shiho (General series)  
**Prompt: **#32—sunset  
**Word Count: **752 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **There was a reason that Shiho hated sunsets.

* * *

Miyano Shiho always hated sunsets.

It wasn't the sunsets themselves, really. They were beautiful, of course, painting the sky with the full range of Mother Nature's warmest pallet in hues of yellow and orange and pink and red and every possible hue in between. Those beautiful fingers would reach across the sky until the very last ray of light had vanished behind the horizon, and the heavens would finally fade away into the darkness and beauty of the starry night.

She could appreciate the beauty of the sunset.

What she hated about it was what it could bring.

As a young child, she remembered looking outside at the sky as the sun was going down. The sunset was unusually red that night, with the sky almost looking as though it had been painted with blood. She had not really made that particular connection, and simply admired it for being lovely.

The next day, she was orphaned when her parents were lost. She had no family left, save for her sister Akemi. And she clung to Akemi for protection and guidance in a place where such things were almost unheard of. Her sister rose to the challenge, though, and was able to instill in her the right morals and the right beliefs to keep her from falling into the trap that was the Syndicate and the Syndicate's less than legal practices.

She did not see another sunset like that for some years. The next time she did, she was in her late teens, and she looked out to see that the sun was soaking the sky in that same blood-red color. She recalled the last time she had seen anything like that, and what had happened afterwards. It sent a chill through her, but she wrote it off as impractical. Shiho was all about practicality.

The next day, she received word of her sister's death.

She had now lost everything she held dear. She had been left with only the cold comfort of science, and it no longer could distract her from how she felt and her need to know why. And not long after it all happened, she made her stand: she would do no more work for the Syndicate until she received an explanation as to why her sister had been murdered.

That night, the sky was crimson.

The next day, Gin and Vodka came for her, and she attempted to take her own life. A twist of fate saved her, and gave her the chance to flee from all of this and take a chance. Because of that little pill and a one in a million chance, she was able to find solace and shelter with the one person who could truly understand what she was going through and how she felt.

Ironically, he was also the one person who had more reason to hate her than anyone else, yet did not. He protected her, offered her a shield and a thin veneer of normality when everything beneath the surface was in a chaotic turmoil.

She feared for him as he continued to investigate the Syndicate, because she knew far better than he did what they were capable of and what could happen to them. Death was not the worst fate in the world, she warned him. There were things far worse than simply being killed, and the killers of the Black Organization, people like Gin and Vodka and Vermouth, knew all of them and how to exploit them.

One day, he brought news to her: they had found a lead on the Black Organization. And they were going to go look into it in the morning. If things went well, the results would be incredibly rewarding, possibly even cracking the case. He was thrilled at the prospect of being able to come out of hiding at long last.

She took the news quietly and with a smile. She trusted him, and trusted that he would be careful. That night, she absently glanced out the window, still wondering what the next day would bring and if his lead would pan out and give them a victory at last. He was already on his way, in the company of a couple of close friends who knew of the situation and had agreed to help.

And she saw the sky, the sunset, the omen she had dreaded seeing.

Red.

Dark, vibrant red, like human blood.

Knowing what it meant and what the next day would bring, she hung her head and wept.

* * *

**PS.** _I put up a drabble request over on my LJ, and this was a plunnie given to me there, and I had to write it. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	94. Penalty

**Title: **Penalty  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Gin, Yuusaku, Yukiko (General series)  
**Prompt: **#18—black  
**Word Count: **439 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Rule Number One is definitely not to mess with the Boss' kid.

* * *

When Gin's path had crossed with that of the teenaged detective Kudo Shinichi, he hadn't really given the matter too much thought. He had dealt with the issue as he would deal with any other annoyance, and killed it dead. That was the way of the Black Organization.

In hindsight, he could not figure out how exactly he had done anything that incredibly stupid.

And now he was standing in the office of the Black Organization's Boss, staring down at the toes of his favorite black shoes, awaiting his fate. Then again, he really should have known better than to try to poison the Boss' son. And apparently, it hadn't killed the kid—if it had, Gin probably would have already had a bullet in his head.

The Boss, one Kudo Yuusaku, did not look pleased. "Gin. There are rules. Very simple rules, really. And those rules say who you can and cannot go after." He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "And one of those marked off-limits was my son. I'm sure you remember that."

"Yessir…" he murmured, wishing he could feel genuinely sorry for the kid. Instead, he just felt sorry for himself. He knew of Syndicate members being executed for less than this.

"They were simple rules of engagement. You broke the cardinal one of those rules," Boss sighed. "And you've always had such an excellent track record with us—"

"Oh, Yuusaku, don't be so harsh," Yukiko folded her arms as she regarded her husband's agent and top assassin. "Please understand, Gin. If Shin-chan had died, I would have shot you myself. But he's alive, and he's safe, if a bit scared and confused. So really, no harm has truly been done. Given that, I think that execution seems a bit harsh of a punishment for what's happened."

Gin couldn't quite hold back the sigh of relief.

Yuusaku, however, looked a bit dubious. "Yukiko—"

"Make no mistakes. There needs to be a punishment, and preferably a severe one, since he did try to kill my boy. But this means I can feel young again!" she clasped her hands together, her eyes suddenly going all starry as sparkles filled the air around her. "If he's seven, it's like I'm ten years younger!"

The two men watched as she started babbling about spending time with her baby. After a moment, Gin sighed and looked to his boss. "And my penalty is…?"

Yuusaku gave him a pointed look tinged with just a hint of amusement. "You are Yukiko's personal servant for the next two weeks. No killing for those two weeks either. Have fun."

Gin cursed.

* * *

**PS.** _Jeva's fault. Entirely. Spawned from an LJ comment-chat I had with her. Wow, this whole challenge series is almost over. Hard to believe, huh? Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	95. Ghosts Need Not Apply

**Title: **Ghosts Need Not Apply  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi, Ran, Heiji, Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#55—spirit  
**Word Count: **10,194 words  
**Rating: **R (for language and blood)  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **If they didn't escape, they were to become the victims of a truly perfect murder…

* * *

Shinichi's last solid memory was of letting Ran into his house, and being overjoyed that he was a little bit taller than she was. Newly restored to himself, the first thing he wanted to do was see her, and that had left him momentarily blind to everything else. In hindsight, it was either a very stupid thing to do, or he just had incredibly horrible timing.

Either way, he knew that she had come into the house. She had been babbling excitedly, not quite believing that it was him. She had hugged him tightly, and he had hugged her back without any desire to let go. He had started to say something, and noticed her horrified expression, her eyes focused on some point over his shoulder. He started to turn—

And that was the end of his concrete recollection.

He had a very faint memory of someone talking above him. Something about doing it all at once. He could have sworn he was moving somehow. And he thought he heard Hattori's name…

But wasn't Hattori staying at the Mouri Agency for a few days? With the Toyama girl?

Whatever the case might be, his head was pounding, and it was a real struggle to open his eyes more than a crack for fear of the light. But when he managed this particular feat and looked around, he realized that something was very much amiss. Namely, he was sprawled on his back in the center of a long hallway. Ran was lying beside him, unmoving.

And he had no idea where they were or how they had gotten there.

Sitting up proved to be a bit of a chore, but he managed and took a more in-depth glance at the unfamiliar surroundings. They were, indeed, in the middle of an expansive corridor. The ceiling above them was high and arched; it all was decorated very ornately, in a decidedly Western style, and had an extremely archaic feeling to it.

But that wasn't all. Something about the place seemed very…off. Odd. The air didn't feel right, or something. Shinichi was having an extremely difficult time placing exactly why the hair on the back of his neck was standing up and a chill was running down his spine. He tried to write it off as being a shaky remnant of the realization that he had been kidnapped, but somehow it didn't seem like that could explain the entire feeling away.

Ever the pragmatist, he gave himself a shake and turned his attention to Ran. He gave her shoulder a gentle shake. "Ran? Ran, wake up!"

After a moment, her eyes fluttered open. "Sh…Shinichi?" she murmured, wincing. Still, she sat up without his assistance and glanced around, one hand pressed to her forehead. "Where are we? What happen—oh my god…" Her eyes widened and she trailed off as she seemed to recall the answer to the question before she could finish asking it.

"We've been kidnapped," he said, standing and offering her a hand.

Outwardly, he remained as calm as possible. To panic now could potentially be suicide. But his well-trained mind was already racing with all the ways that this scenario was odd. There was no doubt that they had been snatched from his home, but they should not have woken up as they did—free and unbound in the middle of a strange building. Most kidnapping victims were either killed outright, or imprisoned somewhere, weren't they? At least, that's how it seemed in the majority of kidnapping cases he was familiar with.

…for that matter, if the parties responsible were who he suspected, why hadn't they just been killed?

"Shinichi?"

Ran was talking to him. Focus. "Sorry…thinking." He gave himself a shake and took her hand. "Come on, let's see if we can find a way out of here." He belatedly thought to check his pockets, and was unsurprised to find them empty. No matter, though. They just needed to find an exit…

Though this all seemed far too simple. He slowed his steps and inched a bit closer to the wall. And though he tried to push the thought aside, he couldn't help but find himself recalling a story he had read once, where a man fixated with hunting sought the ultimate prey, and only found it in the form of other human beings. For human beings were the only creatures capable of thinking at the same level as the hunter, making them much more challenging targets.

It was just another possibility to add to the short list that was forming in his mind. Were they to be hunted down like animals in this place? Was this some sort of cat and mouse game? Or was it an honest mistake—perhaps that they were the wrong targets—and they had been dumped here for lack of a better place, and they were going to be able to waltz right out of here?

Somehow, Shinichi sincerely doubted that last possibility.

"Shinichi? Does this place feel weird to you?" Ran murmured in an unconscious echo of his earlier thoughts. But she took it a step further, managing to put words to what he felt but couldn't quite put his finger on. "It's like the walls could just reach out and grab you. Or something's going to jump out at you from around the next corner…"

"That pretty much sums it up," Shinichi agreed and tightened his hold on Ran's hand. "Stay close. We need to stay together." They were creeping along, keeping close to the wall. Both were looking around, every sense on fullest alert. This was strange, unfamiliar territory, and neither would be comfortable until they had found a way out.

Shinichi couldn't stop replaying his last memories in his mind, over and over and over again. Being in the house, letting Ran in, her expression just before everything went black…oh! A sudden thought struck him, and he glanced back over his shoulder. "Ran?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you see the person who grabbed us?" he asked, a bit louder than he had meant to. But if she had seen their assailant, that could mean a lot—it could confirm or destroy his personal suspicions, which could potentially clear up his thoughts on the motive for whatever was going on.

Ran opened her mouth to respond, but froze in her tracks and instead whispered, "Shinichi…listen…"

He immediately stopped and listened as well, and was startled to realize that he also heard something.

Voices.

Coming from up ahead, around the corner—in an intersecting corridor.

Instinctively, he pushed back against the wall. "Stay close," he whispered in the softest voice he could manage and still be heard. "I'll go first. If something goes wrong, start running and don't look back."

She looked infinitely pained at that, but swallowed hard and nodded.

Meanwhile, the voices up ahead had quieted as well. Perhaps they had been heard as well. All the more reason for caution, then. Slowly, they crept towards the corner, backs pressed against the wall, hands firmly entwined between them to make sure that they did not lose each other. Shinichi hesitated, took a deep breath to steel his nerve, and leaned forward to peer around the corner and see who it was.

To his absolute amazement, Hattori Heiji stared back, standing in exactly the same pose and peeking around the corner with the exact same trepidation.

They stood like that for a good couple of seconds before both simultaneously let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall, the tension flooding away to be replaced by relief and a slight feeling of stupidity for getting so worked up.

Startled by Shinichi's reaction, Ran stepped from behind him, and nearly crashed into Kazuha, who had been standing behind Heiji.

After a small chorus of various relieved and startled exclamations, they finally got down to some sort of business. "What are you two doing here?" Shinichi managed to grab the lead and steer the conversation away from the admittedly reasonable surprise and towards the situation at hand.

"We were back at the Agency. Neechan said she'd be back in a minute, so we were waiting," Heiji explained, gesturing to Ran as he mentioned her. "And then some lady walked in."

"We thought she was a client for your father, Ran-chan," Kazuha broke in. "But when we said that he wasn't there, she got this weird smile on her face and said 'Good.' And then there was some guy behind her, and…everything after that is sort of a blur, but I remember feeling a sting on my neck." She rubbed at the side of her throat, remembering.

That rang every kind of bell with Shinichi; as Conan, he used sleeping darts on a regular basis to turn Mouri Kogoro into his own personal puppet, suitable for the solving of murders. "I don't get it, though," Shinichi said thoughtfully. "They just let you see them like that?"

A nod.

"…that doesn't make any sense."

The detectives were interrupted by Kazuha clearing her throat. "Here's a thought, guys—how about instead of standing around talking, we find a way out of here?" She wrapped her arms around herself and glanced about. "I really don't like it in here. It just feels weird."

Shinichi privately agreed with both of her statements, but it seemed that Hattori just couldn't keep himself from making a comment. "Aww, is poor Kazuha-chan still afraid of the dark?" he snickered.

"AHOU!" she was mad, and rightfully so, most spectators would agree, and turned on her heel to start stalking away. "Fine! Stay trapped in here forever! See if I care!"

"Wait up! Ahou!" Heiji snapped back on pure instinct, and chased after her as the familiar sound of an argument rang through the otherwise-silent house.

"Honestly, will those two never stop…Hattori, would you wait up!" Shinichi called, but the Osakan pair was merrily bickering their way ahead of them with no thought to the other two behind them. He sighed and quickened pace, rounding the corner. "We're going to have to catch up to them. They're not exactly thinking. Or paying attention."

He heard Ran's voice and footsteps, a few meters behind him. "Shinichi, would you slow—"

There was a soft hissing sound, and Ran was cut-off in mid-sentence. Her footfalls went silent.

Shinichi froze. Something did not feel right. "Ran?" he called into the dark hallway.

There was no answer.

"Ran? Where are you?" he tried again, and still got no reply. Growing more and more alarmed by the second, he started inching back towards the corridor from whence he had come. He knew Ran had been right behind him up until he had gone around the corner. Where was she now? He took a deep breath, and peered around that corner.

It was empty. There was no one there.

Now completely alarmed, Shinichi turned and ran after the Osakan pair. "Hattori!"

There were footsteps, and the two came sprinting into view. "What happened?" Heiji asked in between gasps for breath. He was glancing around, as though expecting there to be some visible problem or attacker or something of that nature. "Where's Neechan?"

"That's the problem!" Shinichi said, his usual collected demeanor going right out the window. "Ran's missing, I can't find her anywhere! She was right behind me until I came around this corner, and then I heard a weird hissing sound, and then she was gone!"

"That's impossible—K-Kazuha!" Heiji said, his statement turning into a yelp as Kazuha brushed past him. She was already moving towards the hallway in question. "What the hell are you doing, ahou?"

"Looking for Ran-chan! What else?" she snapped back, pausing at the spot where the two hallways intersected. "I should be asking what you're doing, just standing around when she could be in trouble!"

"If she went missing, who's to say you won't disappear too? Don't go wandering off by yourself, ahou!" Heiji said angrily, stalking towards her with Shinichi sticking close, hot on his heels. "If you vanish, I'm not looking for you!"

Shinichi knew that last part was a complete and total lie. If Kazuha went missing, Heiji would tear the place apart to find her. But the fact was that in this case, he really had to agree with the Osakan detective. "Hattori's right," he said. "We need to stick together. It looks like Ran disappeared during that split second when we were in separate hallways. Maybe there's a door or something and someone grabbed her…or she tripped a switch?"

But a search of the walls and floor revealed nothing. Kazuha even let the two boys hoist her up to do a quick inspection of the ceiling, but she could find no sign of any trick or secret door that would account for Ran's mysterious disappearance. There was, however, a window in the middle of the ceiling. She couldn't see anything through it except for more of the ceiling, but it was decidedly discomfiting.

With all three of them getting more and more nervous by the minute, they started tearing through the house, searching frantically for any sign of Ran. They called her name, but got no answer. The house itself, meanwhile, seemed to grow more and more like a maze with every room they entered. There were doorways that led nowhere, windows that opened onto empty rooms, and one stairwell that nearly killed Shinichi by going up to a wall; he managed to clock himself on the ceiling.

When they opened another door and found themselves in a library, they stopped for a moment and sat down to catch their breath. Or at least Heiji and Kazuha did. Shinichi kept moving around the room, pulling books from shelves with little care for their condition. When that failed, he moved to the desk and started rifling through the drawers and papers. What exactly he was searching for remained unclear, but it was obvious that nothing would escape his scrutiny as he searched for Ran.

"Kudo!" Heiji finally jumped in. "You need to calm down! Freaking out isn't going to help!" He did spare a moment to wonder exactly when he became the voice of reason in this ensemble, as that position was usually awarded (with honors) to Kudo.

"I'm not stopping until I find her!" Shinichi barked, slamming one hand on the desk.

There was a click, and a section of the carpet suddenly depressed, as though hanging.

The two boys looked at each other for a moment, then moved towards it as one person. Kazuha jumped to her feet and joined them. They had to move a chair in order to get the carpet up, but in relatively short order they had pulled it aside to reveal an opening in the floor. It appeared to be some sort of trap door, and judging by what they could see through that opening, it led to a crawl space.

Before the other two could say anything, Shinichi was already climbing down into the small area. "I'll check it out. I don't think it's that big, but…I feel like I should stay in sight." He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that if he was out of sight, it would constitute being alone…and that was very, very bad.

He was proven right: it was a very small space, hardly big enough for him to move in. But he did find something down there—a few somethings, rather. There was a small framed document or picture of some sort, face down on the dirt floor, and on top of it was what appeared to be some sort of old monetary bill. He picked it up and looked at it. It was definitely a paper yen bill, one yellowed with age. And upon closer inspection, he saw what appeared to be writing on it.

"Kudo-kun? Did you find anything?" Kazuha called from above.

"…actually, yes. I did. Hang on," he said, gathering both of the items and clambering back out of the crawl space into the lit room above. He quickly spread his discoveries on the floor so the others could see them. The framed paper proved to be a portrait, apparently hand-painted, and slightly faded with age. There was a signature at the bottom that was too far gone to read (presumably the artist), and an engraving at the bottom of the frame that read one word: _Urado._

"Well, that's…interesting," Heiji said, raising an eyebrow. He picked up the bill and studied it. "What the hell does this mean, exactly?" He squinted at the writing, as though trying to make sense of some great puzzle. "What do you think about that portrait?"

"Beats me. It's very good. But who is this Urado? I assume that's this man's name. Definitely a strange name," Shinichi commented, giving the picture a closer look. The man in the picture was very thin, and rather sickly-looking, but there was something about the expression on his face or the look in his sunken eyes that did not sit well with Shinichi. And he couldn't help but think that in some indefinable way…the man reminded him of Gin. And that was not a good feeling at all. "But Urado…why do I feel like I should know that name?"

Kazuha was tapping her chin thoughtfully. "It does sound sort of familiar…"

Heiji, meanwhile, passed Shinichi the money. "Take a look. I think I've got it, but I want confirmation."

Shinichi obligingly took the bill and studied the writing on it. After a few minutes of thought, he realized why the kanji didn't make any sense. He was reading it the wrong way—this was old Japanese. With that in mind, he reread it, having to search his memory for meanings. But finally, he passed it back, his expression very grim. "It's a warning, right?"

"What?" Kazuha took her turn looking at it.

"It's saying to stay away. People who come here die. And Urado's name is on there—" Heiji started to explain for her benefit, but was cut off when Shinichi's eyes widened. "Kudo? What?"

"I almost missed it, but look at this!" Shinichi exclaimed, pointing at the very corner of the plaque that bore Urado's name. There was a very tiny engraving there, barely legible.

"What does it say?" Heiji squinted.

"Vlad," Shinichi read.

"…Vlad? Why does that sound familiar too?" Heiji frowned.

"Urado. Vlad. They sound similar…" Shinichi remarked.

"The Impaler."

Both turned to look at Kazuha in surprise. "What?"

"The only Vlad I've ever heard of is Vlad the Impaler," she said, turning to Heiji. "Do you remember that project we had to do in our English class last year, where we picked an English novel and had to do all that research on it and write the big paper?"

"Yup."

"I picked _Dracula_. Sensei recommended it. And I researched the history of it," she closed her eyes in thought as she tried to remember the details she had so meticulously looked up for her school project. "Bram Stoker was the author's name. The vampire Dracula in the book was a character he invented, but there was a bit of basis in reality. The actual person was Vlad Dracul, I think it was. I can't remember everything exactly, but I do know that he was called Vlad the Impaler because he liked to execute people by dropping them onto huge spikes and watching while they died." She shuddered.

"…sounds like a very pleasant guy," Heiji grimaced.

"But yeah. That's the only Vlad I know of," Kazuha shrugged, though she still looked thoughtful. "Not that it helps us a lot, really. Vlad the Impaler lived in Europe. Transylvania or something." But she was still tapping her chin, a classic gesture that indicated that she was thinking.

Shinichi was on his feet, gathering the portrait and money to take with them. He was going on instinct a great deal tonight, but there weren't many other clues left to him in this situation. "Let's get going," he said. "We need to find Ran."

The three teenagers headed out of the library, and found stairs leading down, back to the ground floor. But as they started to descend, Heiji froze, his hand on the railing, his feet on two different stairs. He actually went two shades paler. "Kudo. Kazuha."

They stopped and glanced at him. "What's wrong?"

Heiji looked around, his head moving slowly and deliberately. "…there's something else in this house. And we're close to it. Right here." His eyes were enormous, almost fearful. "It's a secret. But people died because of it. And it's near us, somewhere…" Now his gaze trailed across the wall, moving down along the line of the stairs until they stopped about two-thirds of the way down the stairwell. "There." He started moving down the steps, purpose written into his face.

While Shinichi and Kazuha watched, Heiji dropped to sit on the stairs. He seemed to be fiddling with the wall. It took them both a moment to realize that it wasn't just another piece of paneling in the wall.

It was a door. And Heiji was struggling with the handle.

"What the hell?" Kazuha muttered just loud enough for Shinichi to hear it, and rushed to Heiji's side to help him. It took the both of them several seconds of hard pulling to wrench the curved handle downwards and push the door open. The handle actually slammed down suddenly and the door flew open; Kazuha nearly went tumbling forward into the black space beyond it. And both of the Osakan teenagers immediately started coughing at the cloud of dust they inadvertently stirred up.

Shinichi switched on the flashlight built into his watch and covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve as he peered into the darkness. "There's something back here. A room…a big room," he muttered, leaning in a bit further. He did have one moment of hesitation before he made his decision. "I'm going in. You guys can wait out here, or you can come with me."

Though he tried to sound like the idea of wandering into the dark passage alone didn't bother him, he was inordinately relieved when Hattori shook his head. "There's no way in hell we're letting you go alone. The three of us are sticking together." Kazuha nodded, though she looked a bit less confident about going wandering around in there.

Apparently in agreement, they slipped through that opening and into the space beyond it. Shinichi went first, then Kazuha, and Heiji last. Kazuha kept a tight hold on Heiji's hand until all three of them were safely on the ground. They left the door open, though the light from that opening wouldn't stretch very far. But now they could look around a bit more easily.

They had crawled into a small room, with a stone floor and dust and cobwebs everywhere. There was a door in the far wall, and some sort of boiler or furnace in the corner. Kazuha summed it up very nicely for all of them when she said, "Well. This is pleasant."

Armed with the small beam of light from his watch, Shinichi wandered around the perimeter of the room. There wasn't a great deal to see, but he kept shining his light on the wall, as though looking for any openings or trick latches. He paused when he got to the furnace, and dropped his light to shine down on it. Then came the strangled cry. "H-Hattori!"

Heiji and Kazuha were across the room in a heartbeat, and Kazuha immediately jumped back with a gasp when she saw what was down in the area usually reserved for the furnace's fuel.

Bodies.

Two dead bodies, both covered in blood. Their throats were viciously slashed. Judging by the state of the bodies, they had died relatively recently, but neither detective could bring himself to actually check for the state of rigor mortis or any other indicating factors.

"I really, REALLY want to go home now," Shinichi swallowed hard, turning away from the sight. "We need to find a way out of this hellhole. Now. Bring the police back later to check this place out. Or better yet, burn it down." He was mumbling by that point as he made his way to the door on the far side of the room. "Burn this god-forsaken place down…"

The door in question was old; the knob actually broke off in Shinichi's hand, and the door itself swung open very slowly, emitting a loud, ominous creak from the rusty old hinges. Heiji couldn't keep himself from commenting, "Good omen, huh?" When Kazuha glared at him, he shrugged. "What? If we were watching this in a movie, this is where we'd be screaming at 'em not to go in the room, right?"

Even in the dim light, it was easy to tell that Kazuha had gone paler.

The door opened onto another short hallway, which led to some sort of entryway or foyer. It was certainly one of the strangest layouts any of them had ever seen, and Shinichi had once toured the Winchester Mansion in California while visiting his parents. This horrific place made about as much sense architecturally as that place did. Then again, there weren't any bodies in the Winchester House.

The three of them walked towards the mouth of the hallway and the room that lay there, sticking very close together, when Heiji suddenly stopped again, perhaps a meter or so from that opening.

"Hattori?" Shinichi asked, giving him a curious look.

He didn't seem to hear the question. His eyes were focused intently on a door on the right side of the hallway just up ahead. He raised a hand and pointed. "Through there. They brought them through that door." He frowned, his brow furrowing as he thought. "There's a chair. A table. And a fireplace. They would take them through a door hidden in the wardrobe…" He fell silent, moving the raised hand to his mouth and dropping his eyes.

"Err, Heiji…" Kazuha started to say something, then fell silent. "L-let's just check it out."

"We have to find Ran," Shinichi said, a quiet reminder of their main objective right now. Once they had her back with them, they could focus on their other goal: finding a way out of this strange place. He was still trying to remember if they had actually seen any doors or windows that led to the outside.

Obeying Heiji's strange orders, they carefully pushed the appointed door open and looked into the room beyond it. Shinichi's flashlight swept over the room, illuminating some things in there. A large chair, covered in dusty and faded maroon upholstery. A small table, lying on its side. A fireplace, ornately carved from white stone. And a wardrobe against the wall…

A cold chill ran through Shinichi as he opened the wardrobe and felt around inside it. It didn't take long before he felt something strange under his fingers in the bottom corner. A slight application of pressure sounded a click, and he felt the back of the closet swing open.

Exactly as Hattori had said.

Before he could say anything, a rush of air swept past the three of them, and it was all Shinichi could do to avoid gagging when he got a whiff of it. It was old and musty and smelled strongly of blood. He froze at the mysterious draft and the awful smell, swallowed hard, and felt the strange, inexplicable need to remind himself that there was no such thing as ghosts.

…but if ghosts did exist, this certainly seemed like the kind of place where they would hang out.

"Hattori?" Shinichi said quietly after a moment. "What's next? Do you know?"

A beat of silence, tempered only by their breathing. Then Heiji responded. "There's…I think there's a tunnel. Not a very long one. It leads to a garden or a park or something…a lot of bushes and hedges. At the other end of the garden is another building. The door there…it's painted white. And beyond that door…" He fell quiet for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know what's next."

"Heiji," Kazuha piped up in a tense voice, "how do you know any of this at all?"

"…I don't know," he said. "We went through that door, and suddenly everything just kind of came into my head. I don't even know how I knew it was right, but it was all so clear." He frowned. "I don't believe in ghosts, but…this house…it just feels like there's something here." He sounded faintly embarrassed to admit such a thought.

"Let's keep going," Shinichi said after a moment. "I think we're getting close to Ran."

They walked down the corridor. As Heiji had said, it was a short tunnel of perhaps fifteen feet or so. They emerged at the other end, apparently outside. The ground was an odd shade of brown, and they were surrounded on either side by tall hedges, like the kind one would find in a hedge maze. And the whole place carried a nauseatingly heavy scent of blood.

The three hurried through the maze, barely speaking to each other at all. Heiji seemed to know, somehow, which way to go, and they followed his lead. It was the only lead they had, and it hadn't been wrong yet. There was no reason to doubt whatever was guiding Heiji and by default, guiding them. Whatever the case, something was happening here, and it seemed that whatever it was lay far beyond their immediate comprehension. They had no choice but to press forward.

Far too soon (or so it seemed, in a strange way), they found themselves staring up at the aforementioned building. It was made of wood, most of which was faded and rotting, and the door directly ahead of them had once been painted white, though it was now peeling, and the worn wood was clearly visible. It seemed that this was their destination.

"In there," Heiji said softly. That was good enough for them, and Shinichi took the dubious honor of opening the door. The knob must have been rusty; it resisted a bit before turning in his hand.

What lay ahead could have been someone's house; the initial glance almost reminded Shinichi of the layout of his own home in Beika, with the stairs to the left of the entryway. They moved inside, looking around in search of any clue; Kazuha moved ahead, staying well within sight of the two boys. "Hattori?" Shinichi asked, watching as Kazuha opened a door and peered inside. "Anything?"

Before he could answer, Kazuha screamed.

The two detectives were at her side in an eyeblink, Heiji grabbing her arm with intent to shield her from whatever lay inside. But the sight made even the experienced detectives freeze and stare in horror.

The room Kazuha had inadvertently opened…was full of bones.

It was a long room with a high ceiling, lined with shelves that ran from floor to ceiling. And on the shelves were heaps of bones, gathered in small piles. Each pile was topped with a skull, giving the impression that each of the individual heaps was an individual person. And there were seemingly countless piles, the remnants of so many nameless dead.

It brought to mind the blood-soaked bodies they had found in the furnace just inside the hidden door at the stairwell, how their throats had been so painfully slashed open…

"Hattori, where's Ran?" Shinichi asked, his voice tense and no little frightened.

"Up the stairs," Heiji intoned; he did not seem at all fazed by the fact that Kazuha was clinging to his arm now. "That's where they would take them."

"They?" Shinichi said, surprised. "Them?"

"Two men," he said. "They would bring people here, bring them through the hedges to this place. They would take them up the stairs," he turned to look up towards the stairwell, "and at the top of the stairs…a door." His eyes widened. "A green metal door."

"Then let's go," Shinichi said. He moved towards the stairs. "I want to know what's up there. Hell, Ran could be up there." He heard Heiji's footfalls on the stairs behind him until they had gotten about halfway up; there the footsteps ceased. Shinichi turned back to look down at his friendly rival. "Hattori?"

Heiji was frozen in place on the stairs, his feet on two different steps, his hand clutching the railing, and his eyes focused on the landing ahead. "Kudo…" he murmured. "Every instinct in my body is telling me to run like hell and not look back."

Shinichi shivered. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his gut as well, but he hadn't wanted to voice the feeling. It seemed silly, really. It was just a flight of stairs, there was nothing up there to be afraid of.

…right?

No matter what he felt, though, he had to find Ran. "We have to keep going," he said with more courage than he truly felt. "Ran's still missing, and…well…" He trailed off, glancing back up the stairs. Dear lord, she couldn't really be up there, could she? But they had to check either way…

"Kazuha," Heiji said, reaching a hand behind him towards the girl, "stay close, okay?"

Surprise flitted over her features, but she nodded (though he couldn't see it) and reached up to take his hand. "I'm with you." Seeing the room full of bones had ended any and all arguments, and left only a dark realization as to how serious their situation truly was.

As if it hadn't been obvious enough.

"Hattori," Shinichi murmured as they reached the landing, "I'm still wondering how you knew all those things, like where the doors were and how to get through the maze."

"I don't know. I just remember it."

"…someone else's memories?" Kazuha ventured.

Under any other circumstances, both Heiji and Shinichi probably would have made some sort of remark as to the impossibility of such a claim, and Kazuha would have blushed and gotten angry. But given where they were and what was going on…it seemed strangely possible.

The conversation died quickly as they turned onto the landing and froze.

Ahead was a green metal door, just as Heiji had said.

"…we should run," Kazuha said. "I want to run. This place…it's a bad place…" Though a sort of childish way to put it, neither boy disagreed. The feelings of dread were completely mutual.

Shinichi swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. "Let's go." He was proud that his voice only quavered slightly, and they began walking towards that door. He reached out, hesitated, then pulled it wide open and peered into the semi-darkness. Strange how the room seemed to be very dimly lit.

And the smell of blood and death was so strong that it nearly sent him to his knees. He was almost ill, and he heard the other two behind him gasping in a similar fashion at the horrific stench. Steeling both his nerves and his stomach, Shinichi moved into the room. "Hello?" Aided by the flashlight built into his watch, he quickly scanned the room, noting that the door they had come through was the only one in or out of the room; finally, the beam of light fell across a huddled form on the floor in the corner…

"Ran!" the name tore from Shinichi's mouth as he sprinted across the room, sidestepping a table that stood in the center of it to reach Ran's side, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. She was sitting with her back against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, and her forehead resting on her knees; she seemed to be unconscious, oh please let her only be asleep… "Ran! RAN!"

After a moment of this, she stirred and blinked up at him owlishly, as though trying to make him come back into focus. "Sh-Shinichi?" she said dully with the air of one who has just awoken from a nap and is not fully coherent yet. "What're you doin' here?"

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" Shinichi asked in a panic.

"M'fine…just cold…" Ran said. It had to be agreed that the room was inexplicably chilly.

Shinichi was wearing a long-sleeved shirt open over a T-shirt; at Ran's confession of being cold, he moved to slip the outer shirt off and offer it to her. As he did so, he heard footsteps behind him, and took them to be Heiji, a suspicion confirmed when the Osakan detective said, "What happened?"

"Was walking behind you," Ran said, accepting the shirt with a grateful look. "And then I couldn't move, and there were two men there and they pulled me through the wall and through the garden and brought me here…I really don't know…"

"I think we need to get out of here n—" Heiji straightened, but his statement was cut off when he slipped. He let out a squawk that turned to a gasp of pain when he caught himself by slamming his elbow down onto the table situated in the center of the floor.

"Heiji!" Kazuha was right behind him. "Are you okay?"

"Damn, that hurt…" he pushed himself upright and shook his head. "I'm fine. Let's just get out of here."

Shinichi started to nod his assent, then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Hattori…" he swung his light up towards Heiji. "Your arm…"

Heiji glanced down at his forearm, the one he had braced against the tabletop to keep himself from crashing when he had slipped. And now it was his turn to look stunned when he realized that his sleeve was stained bright red.

Blood.

The table was covered with blood.

The entire room was blood-soaked, splattered across the walls and floor.

Shinichi stood and reached a hand down to help pull a shivering Ran to her feet. "Hattori…" he murmured, "…was it like this when we came in?" As a detective, Shinichi prided himself on being meticulously observant at all times. But now as he wracked his memory for what the room had looked like when they had entered, he could not say for certain whether there had been blood splattered everywhere or not.

Suddenly, he felt a cold that had nothing at all to do with the temperature in the room.

And it was only compounded when Hattori, equally observant with an equally astute attention to details, shook his head. "I…I don't know. Was it?" Kazuha had been relatively silent through most of this, and simply joined in the shaking of heads.

It was frightening to comprehend, really, that they could have somehow missed something that now seemed so glaringly obvious. Had they missed anything else? God, this whole place was horrendous, quite possibly evil, and they still had to find a way out.

"Heiji…"Kazuha said suddenly, taking the boy's arm with one hand and pointing towards something on the other side of the room with her free hand. "L-look. What is that?"

All three gazes followed hers, and zeroed in on the object in question. "Is that…a bathtub?" Heiji asked, incredulously. But the question was more of an instinctive reaction than anything else because like the table and the walls, the white porcelain was splattered with something that looked far too much like blood for anyone's comfort.

No, not just splattered.

A few steps closer revealed that it was actually filled nearly to the top with dark, thick red liquid, almost to the point of overflowing onto the stained floor. The surface of the liquid was still. And it brought to mind the bodies they had seen out by the secret door, with their throats torn open so violently…was that where all this had come from? And what about all the other bodies, those bones stacked on the shelves in that little room. Had they somehow contributed to this?

A sudden chill gripped Shinichi, and he squeezed Ran's hand. Something was about to happen.

Sure enough, a single ripple started in the middle of the tub with no visible source for it. They all waited, each unconsciously holding their breath as they stood to see what was going to come from this.

And like a monster from some bad horror movie, this…thing began to rise out of the blood. It came straight up, as though the tub was deep enough for him to stand upright in, though that was visibly not the case. Bulbous eyes stared at them from a skull-like face atop a body that was nothing more than a skeleton draped with skin.

And it stared at them with a grin that bordered on the maniacal.

In hindsight, none of the four was sure who said it. It was a voice, possibly one of theirs, and it cut through the room, momentarily obscuring the sound of the THING'S heaving, panting breaths. A single word, a single syllable that jolted all of them out of their stunned stupor with its clear-cut order.

"RUN!"

It made all of them jump to attention and jump to action as they rushed to obey. They tore around the table, heading for the door. There was no way that thing could catch them, could it? They just had to get away. They had to run like hell and make it out of this room, through the maze, and—

Something grabbed Shinichi's ankle.

Moving as fast as he was, he didn't have time to catch himself or adjust, and it was a foregone conclusion. He flew forward and crashed to the floor, face down. He smacked his forehead but good, and for a moment he was too dazed to move as pretty yellow stars danced in front of his eyes. But realizing where he was, he glanced back to see what he had tripped on.

A hand was coming out of the floor, its long dark fingers wrapped around his leg.

"What the—" Shinichi let out an involuntary yelp of alarm and instinctively started kicking, trying frantically to free his leg and get loose from…from whatever it was that was holding him in place. But the hand held fast against his practiced soccer kicks, and panic was starting to set in.

And then a drop of something wet fell on his hand, which was splayed out on the floor, caught by another hand that had come out of the tile to grab at his wrist.

He really didn't have to look. He was sure he could guess what it was. But he turned his head and looked anyway, and saw that it was, indeed, blood. And there were bare feet there, with rivulets of blood running down them to leave crimson footprints on the floor.

With a slowness that almost defied human physics, Shinichi dragged his eyes upwards to see the thing looming over him. It hadn't seemed so huge when they saw it emerging from across the room, but now, standing above him as he lay immobile on the floor?

Shinichi had never been so horrified in his life, and he really didn't care who knew it.

Especially when he noticed something in the monster's hand, something that flashed silver as it moved in the dim light. He recognized it quickly as knife. A large, sharp-looking knife.

And those protruding eyes were watching him with a glee that bordered on sadistic.

Was this…

Was this Urado? The man whose portrait they had found, whose name sounded so much like a man known to the long annals of history as a terror and a devil and whose legacy was one of blood and torture and pain and death?

And it was leaning down towards Shinichi, that hideous face twisted into a sick parody of a smile. The knife was held out, moving ever closer to his throat. It seemed fairly obvious as to what was about to happen, and it turned Shinichi's blood to ice in his veins.

Blood.

That was what this thing was after.

_I'm going to die,_ Shinichi realized, unable to tear his eyes away from the creature. _He's going to kill me._

He had heard it said the answers came at the end, but there were no answers here. There was no who and how and why. There were only questions, and terror, and a desperate, animalistic need to escape.

"Shinichi!"

He heard Ran's voice from the door, and was finally able to break the spell that thing had cast over him to look towards her. He heard the words "RAN, RUN!" tear from his throat, but it didn't sound like him. He had never sounded so hoarse or frightened in his life.

And Ran didn't move. Whether she was immobilized by fear or unwilling to leave him there, he didn't know, but he wanted to scream with frustration. If she died here and now, like this, then him coming here at all had done nothing. He had not saved her, whether at the cost of his life or not.

The knife pressed against his throat, and he heard it make a coughing sound amidst the heavy breaths; he took that sound to be some sad attempt at laughter as it prepared to kill him. _Oh my god…_

He felt the knife move and he felt pain as the sharp edge cut into his skin and oh god he was already bleeding and he was going to die like this…

A burst of light flickered in front of his eyes, then exploded into streams of light, like a gymnast's ribbon, twirling and arching in the narrow space between him and the thing.

Shinichi stared at it, wide-eyed. It felt like…for some reason, as he watched those ribbons of light moving in the air, he thought of a woman he had known a long time ago, a woman to whose senseless death he had been the only witness, the only ears to hear her last words, and whose younger sister he now did everything in his power to protect…

He breathed that woman's name without meaning to.

The knife clattered to the floor as the monster stepped back, its face going from sickening gleefully to alarmed and confused in the time it took Shinichi to let out a hoarse gasp of relief. Still being held to the floor by the hands that had come up from the floor to hold him, he watched as the white lights moved around that thing before they seemed to attack.

The monster, Urado, seemed to burst into pieces and vanish.

A second later, the hands gripping Shinichi's ankle and wrist also vanished.

It took him a second to realize that he was once again mobile. But once he did, he surged to his feet and dashed towards the door where Ran was still standing. He grabbed her hand to pull her along, but she was already moving beside him, matching his pace.

"What happened?" Hattori was at the foot of the stairs with his hand on the banister, like he had been preparing to climb the stairs. Kazuha was standing right behind him, one of her hands on his shoulder; it seemed that she had been trying to stop him from going up there again.

For the third time in as many minutes, the single word was barked: "RUN!" This time it was definitely Shinichi, who actually jumped over the railing to the ground level without ever breaking step. Heiji didn't need to be told twice, and the four teenagers tore back threw the door, the maze, the room, the hallway, and out through the door.

The entire way, Shinichi kept glancing back. In the shadows, he swore he saw Urado's face. He swore he heard that heavy breathing in his ears, smelled that horrific stench of blood and decomposition and death dancing in front of his nose as something thin and icy cold pressed to his throat…

They flung themselves through that door, scrambling back up onto the stairwell. For a lack of anything else to do, Heiji kicked the door closed behind them before pushing away from it and continuing on their mad sprint down the stairs, as far away from it as they could possibly get.

None of them saw the glimmer of white light that moved across that door.

Nor did they hear the growl from beyond it, like the snarl of a beast that has just been caged.

**_-o-_**

It was some distance before they skidded to a stop. Heiji slumped over, putting his hands on his knees to support himself as he panted desperately for air; Kazuha leaned on him. Ran put one hand on a table in the hallway as she gasped. Shinichi dropped to the floor and curled up, putting his hands on the back of his head with his fingers interlocked as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Th-that was…" Kazuha stammered, still white as a sheet. "Oh my god…that thing…"

Ran actually looked like she was going to cry, but whatever she was going to say faded into concern as she noticed that Shinichi was still sitting in a modified fetal position, staring at the floor. "Shinichi?"

One hand loosened itself from its grip on his head and waved. "Just…just give me a minute…" His voice was hoarse and harsh and strained, and he would not look at anyone. Still, a red stain was visibly forming on the neckline of his shirt.

"You're hurt!" Ran dropped to her knees beside him, her hands already grappling at her pockets in search of a handkerchief or something she could use to wipe away the blood or press against the wound to try and stave off the bleeding. The location of this injury made it even more alarming—what if he was dying? They still hadn't found a door in this place! How would they get him help?

"I said give me a minute!" Shinichi repeated, his voice even more grating.

Heiji ignored him and reached down to move his head off to one side for a better examination of the cut on his neck. After a moment, he sighed. "I think he missed the major artery. Don't know how, but it's not bleeding enough for it to be the artery. But you're still going to want to have a doctor look at that, Kudo. It's pretty deep."

"No shit…" Shinichi muttered. He was shaking now, visibly, from head to toe. But after a moment, he straightened his legs and stood hunched over with his hands braced against his thighs. Another minute passed before he rose to his full height and gave himself a shake. He looked pale and shaken. "Let's go. Please. Let's just…let's just get the hell out of this place…"

No one argued. They started walking, all four of them keeping close together both for support and for self preservation. If anything else came out of the walls or attacked them…they needed to stick together. It felt a little silly to be fearful of things crawling out of the walls. That seemed more like something out of a child's nightmares, like the boogeyman in the closet.

But they had found the boogeyman. He lived in a house within a house, beyond a hedge maze that was drenched in the nauseating stench of blood. Given what had already happened, they did not want to take anything for granted or write anything off as impossible. This seemed a place where the impossible came to life and terrorized you, possibly at the expense of your life.

After several more moments of walking, Kazuha stopped so suddenly that the other three ran into her. "This is not getting us anywhere!" she said. "We're not finding a door! Guys, let's come up with some sort of plan, please!" One hand tugged nervously at the end of her ponytail. "Something…anything, we need an idea. At the rate we're going, we'll never get out of here."

Ran took Kazuha's arm. "She's right. Let's…let's come up with a plan. Please, guys. This is awful."

Heiji glanced over at Shinichi as the girls started talking between themselves, and paused. "…Kudo?" he said, noticing that Shinichi was staring up at the ceiling, his face blank. It almost made Heiji wince; that particular pose made the bleeding cut on his neck impossible to miss. "You okay?"

"I'm just thinking. I feel like we're missing something," Kudo said in response, turning his head to look straight at Heiji. "What's bothering me is the why of all this. Why bring us here? Why go to all this trouble? Why not just, I don't know, shoot us in the head or something?"

Heiji glanced back over at the girls; they were talking nearby, seemingly oblivious to the discussion their boys were having. "It does seem weird. And I'll go you one better—they let us see them. We could identify them, no problem." He folded his arms. "I think it's pretty obvious that they don't think we'll ever get that chance. In other words—"

"They expect us to die, right? I mean, that's the only way they can be one hundred percent certain that we won't talk," Shinichi nodded. "But why go to such lengths? I mean…come on, really."

"A ghost who kills people…" Heiji cocked his head to one side. "I gotta say, that's a new one."

Shinichi shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "New or not, I don't care. Whatever the hell is going on, I want to know. I was a split second away from being a murder victim myself. So I think I'm entitled to some goddamn answers."

Heiji tapped his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then froze. "…say that again."

Startled, Shinichi said, "…I'm entitled to some answers?"

"The part before that."

"I was almost murdered?"

"Yeah, that."

"…why?"

"Kudo," Heiji gave his friend an odd look, "tell me something. What's the legal definition of murder?"

"Hattori, you're not making any sense."

"Just answer the question."

Shinichi sighed. "Legally, murder is the killing of one human by another…" He trailed off at the end of that statement as it clicked, and his eyes widened. "You're not actually suggesting…"

"One human kills another. Malicious intent. That's murder. So if you died in that room…who's the murderer?" Heiji asked. There was a certain speculative glimmer in his eyes that only appeared when he had a mystery in front of him. Ran and Kazuha, meanwhile, had apparently realized that something important was being unraveled and had come closer to listen.

"…does Urado count as a human?"

"I don't know. Does a ghost count as a human? I wouldn't think so," Heiji shook his head. "I mean, no self-respecting cop would ever suggest that a ghost was the culprit in a murder. If they did, they'd probably be laughed off the investigation." He glanced at the girls. "Right?"

Kazuha nodded. "None of the officers I know would suggest it."

"Let's go back to the beginning," Shinichi waved a hand in the air before pressing it to his forehead, as though trying to stave off a headache. "We're kidnapped. They let us see them, which suggests that they don't care if we could identify them because they don't think we'll ever be able to. We wake up in this crazy house, and the next thing we know, we're face-to-face with a ghost intent on cutting our throats."

"…but a ghost isn't human, right?" Ran asked.

"That thing was not human," Shinichi said quickly, his voice crisp. One hand moved to his neck in an unconscious gesture. "So…Urado couldn't be the murderer in the legal sense. So then…"

"So then who murdered you?" Kazuha finished.

Heiji's eyes widened as a thought struck him. "I'll go you one better, Kudo. I wouldn't ask who the murderer is," he shook his head. "I'd rather ask what the murder weapon is. The knife? Or…?"

"…you're actually suggesting that they're using a ghost as a murder weapon?" Shinichi said.

"It's the perfect weapon, isn't it?" Ran interjected. "Completely untraceable."

"So…they dump us in here to let us be killed by a ghost. That way…there's no physical murderer. The ones who put us here—the real killers…they could be miles and miles away, so there's no way they could be blamed for our deaths, right?" Shinichi almost seemed to be thinking out loud. "So…we die. There's no murder weapon, no murderer…"

"…you know, legally there might not even be a murder," Kazuha piped up.

The other three stared at her. "What?" Heiji said.

"Think about it," she said. "Remember, my dad's a cop too. I know how some of this works. Say it's a kidnapping. They make a clean grab, and there's no evidence left of any foul play. Then no one could really say that the person in question didn't just decide to take off somewhere."

"But the body—"

"What body?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Remember that room we found, with all the bones? And there were quite a few in there, which tells me that they've done this before. Lots of times. Which is why they were confident enough to leave us here."

"…the bodies don't leave. They're never found," Heiji said. Comprehension was finally dawning as to what she was getting at. "If there's no body and no evidence of foul play…"

"Then wouldn't it be a missing persons case? At least initially?" Kazuha finished.

"…Kazuha, every once in a while you're kind of brilliant," Heiji said, and she swatted him.

"So…we vanish, but no one knows we were kidnapped," Shinichi said. "Even if they do find some evidence of that, they can't prove that we're dead. We're a missing person case, most likely. And then we die in here. No one knows where we are. No one knows that we're dead. No one ever finds our bodies." He ran nervous fingers through his bangs. "And so it stands to reason that no one finds the ones responsible. The real killers. They're clean."

"Using a completely untraceable murder weapon, a ghost…" Heiji was startled to feel a laugh bubble up from his chest, a harsh sound that he was hard-pressed to subdue. "Oh my god…I can't find a hole in this plan. Some mistake. And I can't. It's brilliant."

"It's more than brilliant, Hattori," Shinichi was actually fighting down stupefied laughter of his own as he tried to imagine what conclusions he would have drawn if he were investigating this from the outside; would he have ever dared to suspect a spirit? "I think it's perfect. It's a perfect fucking murder."

Those words fluttered over all of them, fading into the silence.

"So…what do we do?" Ran finally asked quietly, nervously.

"If we die in here, then we'll just be another notch in the pole, so to speak," Shinichi sighed. "They won't find us. Even if they do, by some miracle, they won't know what happened to us. So the only way for us to solve the mystery, as it were…"

"Is to escape," Heiji finished.

Kazuha cleared her throat. "I…didn't see a door. Anywhere."

A chorus of murmured agreements.

"I'll make one if necessary," Shinichi muttered. "Then let's find a window, a hole in the wall…anything."

There was a sound down the corridor then, a low moaning like an animal in mortal pain. It was horrific, both because it came from no discernable source, and because it seemed a harbinger of what was to befall them should they fail.

Ran shuddered. "Let's go. Please."

**_-o-_**

Megure stared in speechless shock at the four filthy, disheveled, exhausted teenagers standing in front of his desk. Half the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force was crowded around the door to the office, trying to see what exactly was going on. Officer Satou Miwako stood beside the four, having taken one look at them and escorted them directly to the Inspector.

"…all right, I'll ask the obvious question," he said after taking a moment to gather his wits. "What in the world happened?" His eyes slid over all four of them in turn: Kudo Shinichi, Mouri Ran, Toyama Kazuha, Hattori Heiji. All well-known to him, both from professional and personal connections, as honest and trustworthy individuals, none of whom ever made trouble.

Kudo sighed. "I don't think you'll believe me, but…here goes nothing…" Privately, he was cringing as he tried to imagine how the good Inspector would react to the part with the zombies.

**_-o-_**

It was a long time later, long after the raid of the Hell House (as the teenagers still called it) that they heard further news of the horrible place. The owner had asked various paranormal investigators to come in and examine the place, ascertain the identity of the ghost, and remove it.

Two investigators vanished and were presumed dead. An organization, named as the Shibuya Psychic Research group, recommended that the place be destroyed. Much as Shinichi had said while inside the place, they suggested purification by fire.

Shortly after the aborted investigation, the mansion burned.

* * *

**PS.** _All right, it can has be full disclosure time now, because there is a story behind this one. This is a rather sizable quasi-crossover with another anime called Ghost Hunt, which is absolutely delightful if you like creepy things or paranormal things. Urado is a ghost they duke it out with in that anime, and his MO is much as you see it outlined here. After I watched GH, I got to thinking about this case, and it occurred to me that O HAY PERFECT MURDER. And lo, this story was born._

_I did do a bit of research as well. The legal definition of murder is one human being killing another human being, usually with premeditation or malicious intent. Ergo, the potential for a ghost to be used not as a murderer, but as a murder weapon. The idea intrigued me._

_So yes, that is the basic story behind this insanely long fic. Thank you for reading. Much love!_


	96. On the Field

**Title: **On the Field  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi/Ran (General series)  
**Prompt: **#99—writer's choice  
**Word Count: **736 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **They were gathered on a beautiful day to celebrate a return to normality. Shinichi/Ran

* * *

"We really couldn't ask for any better weather today, could we?" Ran said, putting a hand up to her face as though to shield her eyes. The gesture was more for show, though, as she was wearing a hat with a wide brim that offered plenty of shade and protection from the sun's bright light.

"Hmm, it is beautiful," Haibara Ai agreed with a slight smile. "A good day for a game."

Agasa just chuckled. "This is sort of exciting, isn't it?"

"Yup!" Ran said, slinging her collapsable chair over one shoulder and starting towards the field, where numerous spectators were gathering in anticipation of the coming event. "Thank you both for coming with me. It means a lot that you could be here for this."

"Not at all," the good doctor waved a hand and followed. "I was glad to be invited. It's been a while."

"I wonder who else will come," Ai commented as they set up their chairs.

Ran tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I thought Takagi-keiji mentioned that they might—"

"Ran-chan!"

As if on cue, Officer Satou Miwako appeared, grinning from ear to ear and waving. "I thought that was you!" she cheered, walking right up to them. Takagi idled along behind her, carrying the chairs.

"Good to see you made it. Oh…" Ran pretended to look surprised. "You came here together?"

Satou had the good grace to blush. "Yes. We did."

Takagi muttered something and went crimson.

"So this should be a good game, right?" Satou said a little too loudly, quickly and expertly changing the subject as she helped Takagi unfold their chairs.

"It will be!" Ran replied. "The team we're playing comes from our rival school. It's always a good game."

"Well, I hear that there's a killer new player on the Teitan High team," Satou said knowingly. "He's supposed to be insanely good, practically a professional."

"I've heard that too," Agasa interjected with a chuckle. "I'm looking forward to seeing him play."

"I have also heard it said that he's pretty cute," Satou added with a conspiratorial wink. "What do you think about that, Ran-chan?" She laughed out loud when Ran blushed and stammered a disclaimer.

"Ah, don't tease," Haibara said smoothly. "Ran-san is happily spoken for. But in regards to this new player, I was told that he had been away for quite some time. A business trip, or something to that effect." She straightened her sunglasses. "This is his first game since coming home."

"Then they'd better win!" Satou said, thrusting a fist triumphantly into the air. "Especially because we have to report back to Megure-keibu on how it goes. He's on duty today, so he couldn't come."

The conversation more or less died there as the crowd stirred. The game was about to begin, and the referees and teams took to the soccer field to start warming up in preparation for the match.

Ran was on her feet immediately, searching for the much-lauded "new player." She actually knew the whole story, the one that most people would have dismissed as a fairy tale. This player had been kept away by circumstances that seemed like something made of magic, and had only recently been allowed to return. She knew of his internal debate on the matter, his verbal query as to what she thought of it all, and finally his humble request of the team's coach to be allowed to join the team and get back on the field and in the game. He had missed it a great deal.

She had encouraged him in the matter; it was a good idea. He needed it. He needed that return to normality, something to do that didn't involve mysteries or murderers or dangerous organizations. Oh, he still worked with the police with great frequency, but…well, he had actually refused a call from Megure because they had been out together. That realization alone made her feel very warm.

The "business matter" that had kept him away had changed him in so many ways, and almost all of them were for the better. The humility was one perfect example, and his forwardness in certain matters of great importance and personal interest to her…

She knew she had never been happier.

And when she caught Shinichi's eye on the field and waved to him, and he waved back, she had the very pleasant feeling that he felt exactly the same.


	97. The Bridge

**Title: **The Bridge  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Conan (General series)  
**Prompt: **#25—strangers  
**Word Count: **2117 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **There was something very therapuetic about telling his story to a complete stranger.

* * *

Every now and then, Conan would manage to sneak away from everything and get a moment for himself. It wasn't easy, given the circumstances, but he could pull it off once in a while. And he had found a few places where he could go and be relatively undisturbed. He usually saved those moments for when things were at their worst and he just needed to collect his thoughts in quiet solitude.

Tonight was one of those nights.

He felt like he was falling apart. Nothing was going right, and he didn't know what to do about it anymore. Ever since the shrink that had taken him from Kudo Shinichi to Edogawa Conan, he had always struggled to maintain some tentative, fragile amount of control over his life and his surroundings. But all too often, those thin strings of power were snapped, and he was tossed about by circumstance.

And, at the end of his rope, he had managed to make good his escape and get away from everyone and everything. Though if someone had asked what had brought him to this particular spot, he would have been hard-pressed to give them a solid answer. If anything, this was a place that should have sent him running the other way because of the memories it held.

He was standing on a bridge. Not too far away, Tropical Land loomed into the sky, the rides and buildings lit up brightly against the darkness; the glow seemed to blot out the stars themselves. And below him was a small grassy area, relatively hidden unless one was specifically looking for that spot.

The place where his life had fallen apart.

He stood with his forehead leaning against the top of the railing that ran along the edge of the bridge, his fingers clutching loosely at the vertical slats. It reminded him of bars in a prison, if such an ironic thought could be forgiven.

Down there was where he had encountered Gin and Vodka, and overheard the blackmail exchange with the gun smugglers, trading money for a roll of film that was proof of their crimes. And he had been poisoned, an attempt on his life that he had been fortunate enough to survive, though he had not escaped the attack unscathed. And now…

He was stuck like this.

As he stood there, he became acutely aware of a fact that he had not really acknowledged before.

Namely, how high up he actually was.

If he fell from here, he would certainly be hurt, if not killed.

He immediately hated himself for the thought. Everything that was going wrong was just a passing streak of bad luck, he told himself sternly. He did not need a permanent solution to what he hoped and prayed to all that was holy was merely a temporary problem.

Still, he couldn't quite shake the idea, niggling in the back of his head to suggest that if it all became too much, he always had that way out, and no one could ever take that option, that escape, away from him.

"Hey, kid."

The voice startled him, and he jumped at the sound of it, his heart hammering violently in his chest. For a brief, insane moment, he wondered if the person who had addressed him had someone managed to read his thoughts and see what he had almost been contemplating. But that was ridiculous. He gave himself a shake and looked up at the person who had addressed him. "Y-yes?"

The speaker seemed to be a young man in jeans, a blue sweatshirt, and sneakers, with a baseball cap casting a shadow over his face; that last wasn't really anything odd, though. It was dark out, and the best light sources were the overhead lights and the amusement park a couple of blocks over. But he could see the stranger's smile. "You look a bit lost, kid. Awfully late to be out by yourself, isn't it?"

Conan sighed and looked back down. "Not really…"

He could almost hear the raised eyebrow. "Oh really?" The shadow beside him shifted, and Conan realized that the young man had changed posture to stand in a bent position, his arms resting on the railing. "What were you thinking about?"

"…nothing important."

"Forgive me, but I don't believe you," the stranger said. "You don't look like you were thinking about nothing. You look like you just lost your best friend. It kind of worries me."

"Don't worry about me," Conan shook his head. "I have enough people worrying about me, I don't need anyone else to do it." He was a bit startled at how easily he was talking to this person, this random stranger. He wasn't even attempting to act like a child; he was behaving like himself. What was wrong with him, and why did he feel like he could trust this person?

"I worry. It's in my nature to do so," the stranger said lightly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know…"

"Go ahead. I'll listen. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell me, but it might help," the young man said, his voice encouraging. "Who knows? Maybe it'll help you to talk to a complete stranger. I don't know anything about the situation, so I can be a completely impartial judge and maybe offer some advice." He shifted again, bracing one foot against the lower railing. "Go on. Give it a shot."

After hesitating, Conan opened his mouth, still without a clue as to what was possessing him to do this. "Well…let's do it this way—I have a friend who's in a bad situation." It was lame, and he knew it was lame, and he was pretty sure that the well-spoken stranger knew it was lame, but he just couldn't quite bring himself to admit that he was talking about himself.

"What about this friend of yours?" the young man asked, not betraying even a hint of disbelief at the excuse. Conan found himself liking the guy a great deal for that alone—not being called on it was a great relief to a mind that was already stressed near its limit.

Before he realized it, he was pouring out a lot more than he had intended to. Oh, he didn't tell the entire story. That could have potentially been suicide. Hell, even what he was divulging could get him into trouble if the wrong person heard and the wrong person started adding up the details. But heaven help him, he could not stop talking. The words just flowed out.

He talked about how he (or rather, this friend) couldn't go home. How much he missed his friends, his family, his life, and one person in particular who was very special to him. She couldn't know where he was, he explained, or else it could get her into a lot of trouble, and there was no way he was going to risk that. He spoke of how hard it was to lose control over himself and his life, and how he had come here to try and collect himself because dammit, it was all too much sometimes.

And, in a shamed whisper, he confessed to the thought that had crossed his mind as he stood there, of how the bridge was high enough that a fall would kill him and that it was a potential escape. That he admitted to being his own thoughts.

He said all of this as himself, again not even bothering to attempt to put up an act or pretend to be the little boy he appeared as. And through it all, the stranger stood silently and just listened.

When the words ran dry and silence fell between them, Conan could almost hear the young man thinking. But finally, he got a response. "Well, the first thing I'll say is this. If I hear of you doing something as stupid as jumping—and I think you know perfectly well that it's stupid—then I will find a way to make your afterlife absolutely miserable."

Conan nodded. "I know. I won't. It was stupid…"

"Well, I guess the best advice I can really give is…wait and see."

"What?"

"Look, your friend is having this rough time, right?" the stranger said, again referring to the imaginary friend as the source of this stress. "When you hit rock bottom, where else can you go but up, right?"

"Well, yes…"

"And you mentioned that this friend of yours has quite a few friends—including you, I would assume—that are there for him and help him out when he needs it, yes? So maybe he needs to put a little bit more trust in these friends. If he doesn't feel like he can talk to them about this, then…well, I don't think he genuinely trusts them as friends," the stranger said. His tone was light and conversational, as though he were discussing something as mundane as the weather, and nothing of any great seriousness or importance. Somehow, it put Conan a bit more at ease to hear it. This person obviously did not think that he (or rather, his friend) was crazy for feeling upset, and that helped.

But that last point he made hit a mark, and it made him cringe. "B-but he does—"

"I don't think so," the stranger shook his head. "He doesn't feel like he can trust any of these alleged friends with what's going on and how he feels. That speaks volumes about his level of trust for them, or the lack thereof. He can't or won't trust them with himself, and that really makes it hard to call those people genuine friends. It's something that's fairly true for a lot of people, but that doesn't make it any less sad, really. Especially given what you've said about this friend of yours."

Conan fell silent, thinking about that. "But the problem is that he can't afford to trust some of the people he knows. It could get them in a lot of trouble. He doesn't want them to get hurt."

"But there are some who are already aware of his situation, whatever it is, right?" the stranger persisted. "Why won't he talk to them, then? They're already in trouble, so why not take comfort in them and what they can offer?"

He didn't have an answer for that. Instead, he thought of all the people who did know his secret and had helped him along the way. He couldn't tell his parents everything, goodness no. But there was Haibara, and Agasa, and Hattori, who he was pretty sure would listen to him rant and then say something characteristically stupid to cheer him up.

…and he could call Ran with the voice changer and talk to her, couldn't he? No details, of course, but he had always taken solace in the mere sound of her voice. And there were the children, the Shounen Tantei. He couldn't tell them everything, but he could take comfort in their friendship, right?

"…why can nothing ever be simple?" Conan asked with a sigh.

"Because if it was, we would get lazy and complacent, and that would be boring," came the response, tinged with a chuckle. "Do you feel any better? Even a little bit?"

"A little…still not sure what I'm going to do, though."

"Sa, sa, you'll figure it out. You always do."

It was only then that it occurred to Conan that the stranger's voice was changing in pitch. It was gradually getting higher, and now it was at a timbre that was extremely familiar. When coupled with that odd comment, which suggested familiarity, it sent up a warning bell, and he glanced up at the person he had been conversing so openly with. "You…" he murmured, squinting to try and get a better look at the person's face, though the shadows cast by the baseball cap brim did a very good job of hiding any identifying features. "Who are you?"

"A stranger and a friend. That's all," he said with a smile that flashed white teeth. He pushed away from the railing to stand upright and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You should be getting home now, though. I suspect everyone will be very worried about you." He turned to leave, lifting one hand to wave as he started walking away. "Have a good night, tantei-kun."

…so that was it.

Conan stood still in surprise, watching his partner in conversation strolling away. And after a moment, he couldn't quite keep himself from smiling at the thief's retreating back. "…goodnight."

* * *

**PS.** _"Tantei-kun," of course, is Kaitou Kid's nickname for Conan.Wow, only three stories left after this one 0.0 Hard to believe it's almost over, but…well, it is almost over xD Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	98. A Little Chat

**Title: **A Little Chat  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Shinichi (General series)  
**Prompt: **#30—death  
**Word Count: **1513 words  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **Hello. I'm Death. We need to have a little chat, Shinichi.

* * *

"Shin-chan."

The sound of his true name (well, sort of) made Conan jump in and of itself. But the fact that the voice saying his true name belong to Mouri Ran only added to his total panic attack, and he whipped around, dropping the Sherlock Holmes novel he had been so happily perusing before the door had opened and that voice had spoken.

Sure enough, it was Ran standing there with her hand on the doorknob. She pushed the door shut with a soft click and regarded him with a raised eyebrow and a mildly amused smile. "Okay, Shin-chan, we need to have a little chat, just you and me."

Reason quickly clocked back in from its coffee break and went back to work. Something was amiss here.

First of all, even if Ran had somehow found out who he was and that he had been lying to her, she would not be approaching him like this. He was quite sure of that. She would potentially be furious or crying or otherwise upset, but he really had difficulty believing that she would approach him about it like this, with that odd little smile on her face.

Reason one and a half was that he had never seen that particular expression on Ran's face. Ever.

Reason number two was sort of related, and it was simply that Ran had never called him Shin-chan. The dubious honor of being the sole user of that nickname belonged to one, Kudo Yukiko, his mother.

Reason number three was easily the freakiest of his logical points. He had known Ran for his entire life, and he knew that her eyes were a lovely shade of blue. In all the time that he had known her, he had never seen her eyes glow white. As they were doing right now.

Ergo, the various points of evidence all added up to something being seriously rotten in the state of Denmark. And the glowing eyes added a nice element of DOUBLE-YOU TEE EFF to the equation.

All in all, though?

Conan (alias the aforementioned Shinichi and Shin-chan) was freaked as HELL.

The person or being or whatever it was that was currently looking at him through Ran's eyes and smiling at him with Ran's mouth and speaking to him with Ran's voice actually chuckled. "Relax, kid. I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk to you for a minute. Nothing major."

"Oh. O-okay," Shinichi agreed, for a lack of anything else to say. What was he going to do? Refuse? Somehow, he didn't think that was any better of an idea. So he straightened up to his full height (wishing desperately that it was higher) and said, "What do you want to talk about? Wait, more importantly, first things first. Who are you?"

"Oh, sorry. Where are my manners?" Ran shook her head and chuckled. "I'm Death."

"…what?" Shinichi stared.

"You've heard me called the Grim Reaper, I'm sure? Well, here I am. In the flesh. Sort of," it tossed its hair (for Shinichi had now mentally labeled the being possessing Ran as an it, rather than a he or she) and grinned. "Sorry I had to borrow her like this, but I needed some way to talk to you directly, and this seemed the best way." A pause. "She doesn't know who you really are, does she?"

"Err, no. No, she doesn't."

"That Gin fellow's got you pretty freaked out, doesn't he?"

"Sort of. Though I could say the same for my present company."

A laugh. "Again, it was out of necessity. But don't worry, I'm not here to collect you or anyone else around this place. Not for quite a while. Like I said, I just needed to talk to you."

"…you're acquainted with Gin?"

"Yeah, need to pay him a visit too. Not in the way you're thinking, though. I need to have a little chat with him as well. It's actually for a similar reason," Death's expression grew a bit more serious.

Shinichi was now thoroughly confused. Death was using Ran's body to talk to him about some as-yet unknown and mysterious topic…and then this spirit or ghost or being or entity or whatever the hell you wanted to call it was going to go and have the exact same chat with Gin? What the hell could Shinichi possibly have in common with Gin?

"Look, kid, I know what you do," Death said, waving a hand. "Ace detective. Solve the tough cases. I've picked up a lot of folks who were pretty glad to have you around when the time came. Appreciate you doing what you do. Unhappy souls tend to whine a lot, and you've made a lot of them stop whining. Makes my job a whole lot easier."

"Okay…"

"But here's the thing," one of Ran's hands threaded through her hair. "Everywhere you go, someone dies. Now, I'm not following you around or anything, but…well, you have a bit of the hex on you, it seems, and wherever you go, I wind up having to follow."

"Wait, the hex?"

"Someone must not have liked you very much somewhere along the line. Perhaps you wronged someone without knowing it, and someone was getting back at you for it?" Death suggested helpfully.

(Some distance away, a young woman with red hair was busily examining her beautiful face in the mirror and wondering whatever became of that teenaged detective who she had cursed for nearly catching Kaitou Kid. Suddenly she sneezed.)

"Err, whatever you say, I guess."

"But anyway, the point here is that I need to ask you to do me a favor."

"What, a favor?"

"It's something nice that you do for someone else, but that's not important right now," Death went on. "What's important is that I need you to stop going places for a while."

"…what?"

"Stay home for a while. Don't go anywhere. Lock yourself in your room with the flu if necessary!" Death said, waving an arm. "Just stop going places for a couple of weeks, please!" There was a pause as the spirit seemed to regain its calm. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm asking this of you."

"That would be correct."

"It's simple, really," Death said with a grin. "I need a vacation. You're wearing me out."

"Oh," was all Shinichi could think of to say. That made sense, really. "Okay. I think I can manage that." He would have to play sick for a while, but not too sick. Otherwise Ran might think something was really wrong. Well, when she was herself again, he supposed.

The look of relief on the God of Death's face was surprisingly genuine. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." It sighed. "Now I have to go have this conversation with Hattori as well—hope that girlfriend of his doesn't mind letting me borrow her body for a minute or three."

"Good luck with that," Shinichi piped up helpfully. "She's a fighter, and he likes to swear and yell. You might have some trouble getting him to listen to you."

"Thanks, I'll remember that," Death nodded. "And then I need to go tell Gin to stop shooting people or else." A sigh. "I really don't want to borrow the body of that gorilla, though…"

"Vodka?"

"Yeah, him."

"Why not?"

"Girls are a lot cuter."

"…pervert."

"Eh, I'm centuries old, what can you do?" Death laughed at the name. "You do have a cute girlfriend here."

Shinichi gave him a deadpan look. "You are creeping me out. Can you leave now?"

"Yeah, I should get going," Death stretched.

"By the way, you really don't sound like a god who's been around for centuries," Shinichi couldn't keep himself from pointing it out; it had been bothering him since the start of their conversation.

"Eh, it's easier to communicate with people if I keep up with the times," Death said. "I can do the whole archaic thing when I need to. I can also be pretty damned scary if the situation calls for it. But for stuff like this? Nah, it's casual."

"I see. Just wondering," Shinichi shrugged. "Thanks for the explanation."

"No problem. Later, Shin-chan!" the God of Death gave one last wave, and then there was a stripe of black light running out of the top of Ran's head, and she slumped to the ground. The entity was gone.

Gone before Shinichi could protest the nickname. Lord of Death or not, the only one who got away with calling him by that awful nickname was his mother! And she only got away with it because it was her goddamn biological prerogative!

"Hnn…" Ran shifted, then opened her eyes. She blinked a few times before she focused in on him. "Conan-kun?" She glanced around. "How did I get in here?"

Remembering Death's words and request for a break from the murders that tended to follow Shinichi around, Conan took a deep breath, put on his most convincing sad puppy face, and rustled up a fairly convincing cough. "Ran-neechan," he wheezed. "I don't feel good…"

* * *

**PS.** _I have no solid idea as to where this came from. It just appeared, as many of my ideas seem to as of late, while I was working. And lo, it was written. __Two left, and I think the next one is the one that a few of you have been waiting for :D __Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	99. The Apartment: Changes

**Title: **The Apartment: Changes  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **Heiji/Kazuha (General series)  
**Prompt: **#86—choices  
**Word Count: **5540 words**  
Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.  
**Summary: **The present is nice, and the future is looking even better. Heiji/Kazuha

* * *

The bus bumped and tossed slightly as it rolled along. Every time it jumped, the passengers inside would go for a little tiny ride before settling back in. No one complained, save for a gentleman near the back who was trying to write something down in a notebook; he was getting irritated at the bounces messing up his handwriting, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Kazuha was sitting near the front, her gaze fixated firmly out the window. The jostling of the bus normally wouldn't have even registered, but her rebelling stomach was firmly enough in her shoes that when the bus tossed, her stomach tossed with it. She felt horrible, nauseous. At least they were almost to her stop, and she would be able to walk the rest of the way. It was just a couple of blocks from the bus stop to the apartment complex where she and Heiji lived.

Heiji…

No. She pushed him from her mind for the moment. She wasn't quite ready to face that just yet.

When the long vehicle finally rolled to a stop, she gathered her purse and got to her feet, making a quick exit onto the sidewalk. She glanced around for no particular reason, then began to walk towards her street and her building. It didn't take long, and she was thankful for that in some ways; truth be told, the events of the morning had left her exhausted. But somehow, she almost wished that it could have taken longer. Her head wasn't completely clear just yet, and she wanted a few more minutes to think.

Alas, wishes do not always come true, and she shortly found herself on her way up to their floor of the building. Nervous fingers fumbled with keys for a moment or two before finally settling on the right one and allowing her to unlock the door. When she stepped inside, she glanced down, and saw shoes sitting there. He was home.

Sure enough, a familiar voice called to her. "Kazuha?"

"I'm home," she said with as much cheeriness as she could muster up. Her shoes slipped off her feet into their proper place at the door before she walked inside, plastering a smile onto her face. She knew perfectly well that it would not fool him, though. He knew her too well for this to actually work.

Sure enough, he took one look at her and his own smile of greeting faded. "What's wrong?"

She should just tell the truth. It wasn't like it was anything she had to be afraid of. And he had a right to know, didn't he? He had every right to know what she knew. She opened her mouth to just say it and be done with it, and instead heard the words "Nothing. Everything's fine!" come out of her mouth.

To his credit, Heiji did not seem to believe her. He studied her intently for a moment before he spoke. "You're white as a sheet," he pointed out, turning back to his book with a sigh, "and you keep tugging at your hair. It's a classic nervous habit for you. Something's up."

Kazuha was silent.

"Do you just not want to tell me?" he asked.

"I…" she started, then faltered.

To her surprise, he threw her a smile. "Eh, I'll admit that I'm curious as hell. But you're entitled to your secrets. Even if I already know most of them." At her surprised look, he winked. "You really shouldn't leave those chocolates in such an obvious place, you know."

She blinked. "They were hidden under an entire stack of towels in my closet."

"I know. Easy to find," he grinned broadly, which immediately softened. "Is it anything bad?"

Again her voice caught, and she shook her head.

"Then you can tell me when you're ready," he shrugged. "No pressure."

…that was far too easy.

And Kazuha felt horrible for it, but she didn't have the courage to object.

**_-o-_**

Still, she wondered if Heiji was really giving up when he took her out to dinner that night. A nice place, requiring both of them to dress up a bit—although Heiji dressing up still took a bit of cajoling on her part. He preferred the comfort of casual clothes to any other type of outfit, no matter how nice he looked when he put forth the effort of donning a suit and a nice shirt.

Either way, Kazuha shifted in her little black dress and managed a sincere smile. "This is really nice."

"I knew you liked this place," he said with a grin. "That's why I brought you here."

"The training continues," she chuckled. "You're learning manners and courtesy. Next on my list is teaching you how to cook something that does not go in the microwave."

"…well, good luck with that," he rubbed at the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture before his expression suddenly grew serious. "Oi, Kazuha…you're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. The lie popped out so easily, and she almost hated herself for it.

"You still look…weird," he said, then immediately shook his head. "That's not what I meant! I mean, you look a little different, but I don't know why. Something about you just seems really…off. Wow, I'm not making any sense at all."

"Heiji, don't worry so much," she said, hands clenching at her skirt under the table.

He stretched one hand, palm up, across the table, obviously hoping for a chance to hold one of hers. "If you say so, ahou," he said. She rolled her eyes at the nickname (which could almost be called a pet name now) and drew one hand up to place it in his, giving his fingers a quick squeeze.

Heiji squeezed her hand back, and then pulled his own hand away.

Leaving something small and warm pressed against her palm.

Kazuha's back stiffened as her fingers instinctively tightened around whatever it was that he had left in her hand. She felt it press against her palm, and oh god there was no way this could be what she thought it was not a chance in hell…

She drew her hand back and opened it, staring down at the small circle of silver-white metal sitting there innocently on her palm, sparkling dully in the restaurant's dim light. Her eyes widened, and she glanced up at Heiji for confirmation. This was…

He was smiling, a genuine smile with only a hint of nerves visible. His hands clasped together on the table in front of them, fingers interlocking tightly together. "Kazuha, the real reason I brought you here is…well, I kind of wanted to ask you something…"

…oh god, he was…

It wasn't like it was a total surprise. The idea had been mentioned by one or the other of them a couple of times during quiet moments. And it was no secret at all that they were in love and prepared to spend the rest of their lives together. But on top of everything she had learned that morning and what she now knew and now he was actually proposing and the ring was in her hand…

"Will you marry me?" he asked in the softest voice she had ever heard from him.

She wanted to scream YES to the world, but her voice wouldn't work. All she could manage was to nod, and hold her hand out while he slid the ring onto her finger, and lean across the table to let him kiss her. It was suddenly surreal, like a dream.

If only there wasn't that pile of nerves, coiled like lead in the pit of her stomach…

**_-o-_**

Kazuha slept in her own bed that night, pleading a headache and saying that she felt ill. It really wasn't that much of a stretch of the truth, either. She did feel ill, and her thoughts were enough to keep her awake for much of the night as she tried to figure out what to do. The ring was still on her finger; she had not been able to bring herself to take it off. It was so innocently there, a golden promise and a terrifying weight wrapped so neatly into a thin metal band.

When the first light of the new day crept into her window and across her bedroom floor, it found her still awake and still unsure of what she was to do. Outside in the apartment, she heard a familiar cell phone ring, and Heiji's voice grumbling a hello. He tended towards the Neanderthal when he first woke up on a given day. She emerged some time later, rubbing at her eyes, to find Heiji gone and a note saying that he had been called to a case and would be home later.

Now she was completely alone in the apartment, still in her pajamas and bathrobe with the ring on her finger and only her frazzled nerves and jumbled thoughts for comfort. In the end, she could really only make one decision: she had to tell him.

As soon as he got home.

What he did after that was his business, and she would respect it, whatever his choice.

Strange…why hadn't she cried yet? She felt like she probably should have broken down last night at dinner, surrounded by warm, dim lighting and good food and a question to decide her future, his future, and their future together. Instead she was just…numb.

Still, Kazuha tried to busy herself while she waited. She tidied up things here and there, and forced herself to shower and at least make an attempt to get dressed, though she wound up pulling the bathrobe back on simply by virtue of the fact that it was warm and comfortable.

Whatever the case was, it must have been a tough one because it was several hours later that her phone rang. She jumped, then rushed to grab it. Sure enough, the caller ID told the story. Kazuha hesitated, then answered the phone, not entirely sure what he was going to say or what she was going to say in reply.

**_-o-_**

Whew, that was a doozy, Heiji reflected as he glanced at the clock. Better call home so she wasn't worrying. A glance over his shoulder proved that the culprit had indeed confessed to the murder, pinned down by the evidence and the weight of Heiji's logic; the man was now being read his rights and arrested by the attending officers. Another successful case solved.

The phone rang several times on the other end before a tired female voice answered. "Hello?"

"…you sound worn out," Heiji said, a bit surprised.

"I didn't feel well last night," she said.

He couldn't argue with that, seeing as how she had said as much the night before. "Well, we're wrapping this up here. I should be home soon." He felt a big, dopey grin cross his face. "I think we have some phone calls to make, too—our parents, for sure, and—" He was cut off when he heard her sob on the other end. "K-Kazuha? What's wrong?"

"I'm s-sorry...I s-should have t-told you yesterday, but I got so freaked out that I c-couldn't," she said, her voice thick and choked with what sounded like tears. "And y-you're going to get angry, I j-just know it…I'm sorry, Heiji, s-so sorry…"

He could actually picture her now, sitting on the couch with the phone pressed to her ear and her face in her hands. "Kazuha, what's wrong?" he said in a rush, voice rising with alarm. "I'll be there in five minutes, I swear to god—"

"I c-can't tell you this t-to your f-face," she said. "I can't s-see your face when you h-hear it…"

"…Kazuha, what is it?" he asked finally.

There was a long pause before she answered. She said only two words.

For quite possibly the first time in his life, Heiji dropped the phone.

When he picked it up again, she had hung up.

Heiji stood there in a daze for quite a few minutes, just staring at the phone in his hand like it had somehow done this. It wasn't until a hand clapped down on his shoulder that he realized what he had been doing; he turned to see Ootaki-han standing behind him, giving him a curious look. "I'm sorry," Heiji said. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you needed a lift," the officer said, giving him another of those dubious looks that Heiji was growing very accustomed to. "Are you all right? You look awfully pale."

How interesting. Hadn't he just said almost those exact words to Kazuha the night before? At least she had a reason for it. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. And yes, a ride home would be great. Thank you."

Again the officer gave him a look complete with raised eyebrow, but he made no further comment on it. He simply fished his car keys out of his coat pocket and said, "Shall we go?" Heiji followed him out to the car and hopped in on the passenger side without another word.

The first few minutes of the ride were quiet, and there was no missing how tense the young man was. He sat slumped in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes focused out the window with his jaw firmly set. He was lost in thought, there was no question about that.

After they had gone for quite a number of blocks, Ootaki decided to risk asking. "What's on your mind, Hei-chan?" The old nickname could prove to be a bit risky, as Heiji was certainly not a child anymore, but perhaps the familiarity would help.

It seemed to. Heiji sighed, some of the tension leaving his posture. "Sorry. Just…got a bit of a shock."

"Who were you calling?" the officer asked, pressing the brake to stop at a red light.

"Kazuha," he said as one tanned hand threaded through dark hair. "I wanted to let her know that the case was done and that I would be heading home soon."

"Did she say something?"

"Yes."

"What was it?"

There was a long, heavy hush in the car as Heiji turned his eyes back towards the window. And just when it got to the point where Ootaki was about to tell him to forget about it, since it seemed to be something on the secretive side, Heiji spoke up again.

"Kazuha's pregnant."

Ootaki nearly hit the brakes in surprise, but managed to keep himself firmly on the road.

"Don't say anything, Ootaki-han," Heiji said softly. "Especially not to my parents. Please."

"My lips are sealed," the officer agreed. After all, it really wasn't his secret to tell, and the fact that Heiji had admitted it to him said plenty about how much the young man trusted him. Still, he had to ask the obvious question. "And I take you're the…"

"Yes," he said with a laugh that seemed to hold precious little of humor. "I am the father. She's not that kind of girl, you know? She's faithful."

A nod of assent. "Do you know anything else?"

"Not yet. I dropped the phone, I was so surprised. But damn, the timing on this…" he shook his head before finally turning to look directly at Ootaki. "Last night, I asked her to marry me. And she said yes. I think she already knew, though." He remember their conversation about how pale she was and how she seemed a bit different somehow, and how she didn't have to tell him.

…it actually hurt a little bit that she hadn't just come right out and said it then.

"She probably didn't know how to tell you," the officer said wisely. "I imagine she's scared."

"She said she was too freaked out to tell me. And that she couldn't bear saying it to my face. Guess she didn't want to see how I reacted," Heiji said as a sigh blew past his lips.

"…let me ask you this, Hei-chan," Ootaki said after a moment's thought. "You said she probably knew about this yesterday. And that you proposed to her last night, right?"

"Yes."

"Suppose she had told you right then and there," Ootaki went on. "I'm assuming that you still would have asked her." Here, the officer's tone hardened a little bit. "If you wouldn't have, then you are not the person I thought you were, Heiji."

"Of course I would have!" Heiji barked with a bit more of his usual fiery temper.

"How would she have interpreted the marriage proposal, do you think?"

Now he stopped cold. "Eh?"

"She tells you she's going to have a baby. Your baby. And then suddenly you propose," the officer said. "Now, I don't claim to know everything, and I certainly wouldn't know how she would take it. She might very well have been thrilled or relieved. But from an outsider's viewpoint, what does it sound like?"

A pause.

"…it sounds like I'm asking her because of the baby," Heiji said finally. "Not because of her."

"Exactly," Ootaki said with a smile. "So perhaps count it as a blessing that she didn't say anything. At least she has a pretty good indication that your feelings and your intentions are genuine."

They had pulled up to the curb in front of the apartment building by this point. "Ootaki-han," Heiji said, one hand on the car's door handle, "when did you get to be this smart?"

The officer chuckled at the tease. "It comes with old age. Now you'd better get inside. She's waiting."

Heiji didn't need to be told twice, and he dashed out of the car. He had already sprinted up the sidewalk and vanished into the building by the time Ootaki pulled the cruiser away from the curb.

**_-o-_**

She was asleep.

Somehow, that was the best possible homecoming Heiji could have imagined. There were no emotions running high or panic-stricken people running about. The apartment was quiet; the only illumination was a lamp on one of the end tables.

And Kazuha was curled up on the couch, sound asleep.

Heiji stood there for a moment, simply taking the sight in. She had said that she had felt ill the night before, and given the circumstances, sleep had probably been elusive. She was wearing her bathrobe over jeans and a T-shirt, her hair down from its usual ponytail. One of her hands hung past the edge of the cushion; the cell phone was laying innocuously on the ground beneath that hand. She had probably dropped it when she fell asleep. There were still faint tear-tracks on her pink cheeks.

And the engagement ring was visible on her finger.

That alone was enough to make him smile.

Sighing to himself, he carefully sat down on the edge of the couch, cautious not to jostle her around too much. One hand moved tentatively to brush her bangs back from her face, again with care not to disturb her. She murmured softly, a sound that he thought resembled his name, but did not awaken.

Heiji smiled and stood. Let her sleep a bit. She had earned it. They could talk later. In the meantime, he was admittedly rather hungry, though his stomach was dancing around a little bit as the news sank in.

Fatherhood.

Wow.

**_-o-_**

He must have dozed off because he woke up in the recliner with a severe ache in his neck due to the odd angle at which his head had lulled. It took him a moment to grasp the precise reason why he had woken up. Namely, there was a horrible retching sound coming from the bathroom. A glance towards the open door told him that the light in there was on, and it didn't take a detective to add up all the variables in that equation to come to an answer.

Heiji got up and stretched, rolling his shoulders and head to try and work out the kinks in his muscles as he walked quickly to the bathroom. The sight that met his eyes was not one that surprised him: Kazuha was half-sprawled on the bathroom floor, clutching at the toilet like a life-line as she violently emptied the contents of her stomach.

Acting on some hitherto unknown instinct, he stepped over her and took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. From that point, it was much easier to get a grip on her hair and rub her back. She made a small noise that indicated she was aware of his presence, but that was all the sign she gave before she was once again distracted by other matters.

Heiji simply sat there and waited it out with her. Finally, she heaved a few more times before sitting back a bit and leaning her head against the toilet seat, moaning softly. He could see that her eyes were closed, and perspiration dotted her forehead. She seemed to have forgotten that he was there. Again, he couldn't blame her. She had a lot of things on her mind at the moment.

He stepped over her for a second time and filled a glass with water from the sink before kneeling beside her and coaxing her head up to press it to her lips. It took her a moment to realize what it was; once she grasped it, she gratefully drank, swirled it around in her mouth, and spit it out into the toilet before leaning her head against the porcelain bowl again with a groan.

"Better?" he asked, not quite able to keep the slightest smile from his face.

Kazuha opened one eye, looked at him, and closed that eye with another soft sound. "Quit grinning, ahou," she rasped harshly without thinking before she spoke. "This is your fault. You are responsible for this. So consider it practice."

"Do you think you're done?" he asked, ignoring the implications of that statement. When she nodded, he flushed for her and shifted so he could carefully scoop her up, ignoring her whine of protest at being moved. It didn't take him too long to get her arranged as comfortably as possible on the couch (though he did grab a garbage can and set it next to her as a precautionary measure, one she did not deem worthy of protest). He took a quick minute to make sure all was clean in the bathroom before he took a seat on the floor next to her.

"…how far along are you?" he asked quietly.

"Two months," she murmured without opening her eyes. "Doctor said so. Went yesterday. Thought I was just getting sick. Been feeling weird for a few weeks."

"You knew last night?" he prodded, though not harshly.

She winced and nodded. "I wanted to tell you right away, but…I just panicked. And then we went out and you asked…" She raised one hand and pressed it to her forehead beneath her sweat-dampened bangs; he saw the glint of metal on her ring finger. "M'sorry, Heiji…"

He sighed. That was the point he had thought the most on, and somehow he just couldn't bring himself to be terribly angry about it. "It's okay," he said, and he meant it. "The question now becomes what are we going to do?"

She cracked one watery, bloodshot eye open to look at him. "Do you still want to…?" She didn't say the rest of the question aloud; she did not need to. He knew exactly what she was asking.

"Do you?" he replied. "I asked you because I meant it."

"…I do," she admitted. "But god…I don't know how I'm going to tell Dad." She closed her eyes again and seemed to deflate, sinking back against the couch. "I don't know how he'll react…"

"I know your dad pretty well," Heiji said thoughtfully. "I think he'll be surprised, but I doubt he'll disown you or anything. He'll be supportive." A chuckle escaped him. "I think he'll have fun being Grandpa." His smile faded. "It's my parents I'm really worried about. I think the engagement will thrill them. They like you, and I think Mom's had our towels monogrammed since we were twelve." He felt gratified when she let out a very small laugh at that. "But the other part? …I'm really not sure. Not at all."

"Should we go together?" Kazuha pressed.

"…I actually feel like I should handle my parents," Heiji ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I'll go with you to tell your dad, though. If you want me to, I mean?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No. I can do it. Best to do it soon…" She winced. "God…your parents…they're going to hate me. They're going to think I'm a whore…"

"They will not," he said firmly. "They know you better than that." And in the unlikely event that they did have any thoughts of the sort, Heiji privately decided, then he was leaving and not looking back.

Still, they both fell silent at the unspoken consensus: _This was going to be interesting._

**_-o-_**

In hindsight, Heiji was starting to wish that he had agreed with Kazuha's suggestion that they do this together. He was feeling smaller and smaller with each passing second that he had to spend under the weight of his father's glare. But he did not let his feelings on that show; he kept his expression neutral and his head held high. Weakness or fear was not an option.

Although he had always been fairly certain that his father could smell fear.

They had taken the news of the engagement as he thought they would, with definite happiness. But the news of Kazuha's pregnancy elicited a much cooler response, to say the least. But interestingly, he wasn't getting quite as disapproving a vibe from his mother. She looked startled at the announcement, but her expression was more one of thoughtfulness rather than disgust.

"They're coming over after Kazuha talks to her father," Heiji said. He hesitated, then added, "And for what it's worth, Kazuha's terrified of what you'll have to say to her."

"What does she think we're going to say?" Shizuka asked.

"That she's a whore."

Now there was a nice tinge of amazement to the shock in the room.

But that quickly gave way as the questions began, mostly from Heizo. The stern man seemed surprisingly agitated over the whole situation and appeared to be grilling his son as a means of venting. Heiji sat back and resigned himself to fielding those questions as they waited for the Toyamas to arrive.

**_-o-_**

The car ride from the Toyama house to the Hattori residence was not exactly a long one. But it felt a great deal longer than it actually was, as both passengers in the car were silent and ill at ease, giving rise to tension that felt even heavier in the small, enclosed space. It was so thick that you could have sliced it with a katana, and probably served it on a flatbread.

Finally, the officer sighed. "Kazuha, please try to relax."

"Easier said than done," she murmured. "They're going to hate me."

"I don't think so. Heizo…well, he'll be shocked, I'm sure, but he's not going to hate you," Toyama said with a shake of the head. "Just take a deep breath, just like before. Everything's going to be fine." He was thinking back to the chat they had just had. The conversation between father and daughter in the kitchen of the Toyama home had been brief, and decidedly interesting, but nerves had been calmed (for the moment, at least). Now it seemed that it might be a struggle to get Kazuha through the front door.

She mumbled something in response and let the silence lapse again, only speaking out when they had pulled up to the house. She glanced up towards the expansive home and saw the light in the window of the main room and shook her head. "I can't do this."

"You can, and you will," he said firmly, turning the key to shut off the engine. "Heiji's inside, isn't he?"

"…y-yes, he is…" she said, her nerves lapsing into a momentary blush.

"Then let's trust him to have things handled here," he said with a smile and a wink, offering her a hand out of the car. "Come on. Let's go talk to the in-laws."

She hesitated, then took his hand and climbed out of the car. He didn't let go of her hand, which was probably just as well because it meant that she couldn't run. It did take a bit of forceful persuasion, though, for her to make it all the way to the front door. Her father knocked, once.

The door opened immediately, and Hattori Shizuka appeared, standing in the doorway. Kazuha privately thought that the admittedly formidable woman looked even more dignified and imposing than she usually did, which was exactly what Kazuha was afraid of.

"I…" Kazuha tried to speak, but her words failed her, and she looked down, waiting for the axe to fall.

A hand touched her arm. "You are truly terrified, aren't you?" Shizuka's voice was kind.

Kazuha looked up, bit her lip, then nodded.

"Come in, come in," the Hattori matron waved them both inside, and closed the door behind them before putting a motherly arm around Kazuha's shoulders. "You have nothing to fear."

Before she could stop herself, Kazuha blurted out, "I'm not a whore."

A pause of surprise. Then Shizuka's calm, comforting voice. "No one said you were." She led father and daughter into the room where Heiji and Heizo were looking at each other; neither seemed terribly comfortable with the arrangement.

There was no mistaking it or missing it: both Heiji and Kazuha lit up the moment they laid eyes on each other, and she quickly crossed the room to sit next to him, reaching down to give his hand a squeeze.

The parents took seats and looked at each other. Finally, Shizuka sighed. "All right, since no one else is going to speak, I suppose it will fall to me. Now, you two," she fixed them both with a look that told them they were going to answer and answer quickly, "since there are many plans to be made in a very short time, I think we should begin."

At their surprised looks, she raised an eyebrow. "While I do wish this news were coming after the wedding, what's done is done, and might have been's don't mend the broken pot. So let us discuss wedding plans, shall we?"

**_-o-_**

"Heiji?"

"Hmm?"

"…your mom is really awesome."

He chuckled. "I know."

The conversation at the Hattori household had been surprisingly easy once Shizuka had taken the lead and began steering the conversation. Wedding plans were discussed at length. It was actually very calming to talk about that; it was almost therapeutic, really, to talk about something that was undeniably joyful and thrilling.

Wedding plans first, Shizuka said. Then the baby. And not to worry, Kazuha-chan, she assured the girl, who tensed immediately at the mention of the baby, because it will all be fine. To hear that from the woman who had been like a mother to her was a great deal of help, as were her assurances that women had been going through this for centuries…and her whispered confession (during a moment away from the men) that she was personally looking forward to becoming a grandmother.

By the time they had called it a night, it was actually morning, and well into the wee hours of it. By the time Heiji and Kazuha had tumbled into bed, it was nearing two o'clock. They were exhausted, nervous, happy, and perfectly content to sprawl out in bed and just enjoy each other's company for a moment before they lost consciousness. Neither had any intention of moving before noon, though it remained to be seen as to whether or not outside factors would permit such sloth.

"So how do you feel?" he asked.

Kazuha shifted. "I'm still nervous. But…I think everything will be okay." She turned her head to look at him. "Our parents are with us. We're getting married. And we're going to be parents." She sighed, which turned into a face-splitting yawn. "A family of our own…"

Heiji kissed her cheek. "You're going to be an amazing mom."

"Thank you," she said. "And you'll be an awesome dad. If we can get past your natural ahou state, of course." That last was said with the most teasing voice she could muster up.

Heiji laughed and gave her a light swat on the arm. "You're the ahou."

"Takes one to know one."

He grinned, and then it was his turn to yawn. "In the meantime…sleep sounds good, yes?"

"Absolutely…" she pulled the blanket a little bit tighter around her and smiled. "Goodnight…"

There was a moment of silence, then Heiji spoke up. "Hey, Kazuha, one more thing…"

She opened one eye. "Hmm?"

She could see his grin through the darkness. "I don't know if the apartment would be big enough for a family." His eyes were sparkling. "What do you think about looking into a house?"

* * *

**PS.** _Whew…that's over and done with. I knew pretty much from the beginning that this was where they'd end up (the proposal itself seemed obvious enough), and then I had a couple of people telling me that there had better be a proposal, a wedding, a baby, or some combination of the three, or else there would be brickings in my immediate future. Needless to say, I gave them what they wanted._

_So this makes ninety-nine. One more to go, can you believe it? It'll be up on September 2nd, two years to the day of the posting of the first one. I planned it that way :D Hope you'll check back in for the anticlimactic ending! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	100. Meeting at Midnight

**Title: **Meeting at Midnight  
**Fandom: **Detective Conan  
**Characters: **All of them (General series)  
**Prompt: **#100—writer's choice  
**Word Count: **1956 words**  
Rating: **PG  
**Author's Notes: **I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they'd stop complaining.**  
Summary: **How did these people get into my bedroom?

* * *

"Hey—we need to talk. Right now."

I looked up from my "work" and stared, startled, at the young man standing in front of me. As if it wasn't surprising enough that Kudo Shinichi, the famous high school detective from Tokyo, was standing in my room, there was a miniature version of him standing by his legs. I knew this child to be one Edogawa Conan. It was just a bit unnerving to see them both in the same place at the same time.

Even more disconcerting was the Look they were giving me. If glares were arrows, I would have been a pincushion in two seconds flat. Fortunately for me, looks aren't arrows, so I was safe. For the moment, at least. No telling how long it would stay that way.

After all, that kick of his is dynamite.

"Can this wait?" I asked with a gesture towards my computer. "I'm plunnie-ing."

"No. No, it really can't," Conan shook his head slowly. "Because that's the issue we're here about."

"But I'm busy!"

"Okay, fine," Ran said, folding her arms. She had just appeared behind them, I swear she hadn't been there there a minute ago! I was suddenly nervous—she was probably capable of snapping me clean in half. But she seemed pretty calm at the moment…

Where the hell were these people coming from, anyway?

"…okay, what did you want to talk about?" I asked, turning around to face them. Wow, there were quite a few people in my room right now. And…Heiji was crawling out of my TV screen. Well, that explained a lot. Sort of. Kind of. Maybe. Not really. What the hell.

"We have an issue," Kazuha explained.

"…about?"

"Fanfics," Heiji interjected, straightening and glaring. "These plunnies you're so hopelessly proud of. You guys are insane, and we're all sick and tired of it."

"Err…what?" I stared. "What did I do?"

Kaito held up a small stack of papers. "Here's our list of complaints."

"Oh brother…" I sighed. "I'm the writer. It's my choice what goes into my stories."

"Doesn't mean we have to like it, agree with it, or tolerate it," Conan pointed out with a wag of his finger that reminded me for all the world of Miles Edgeworth from the Ace Attorney games. And I had to bite back a bit of a snigger at the mental image of Shinichi wearing a cravat.

"Honestly, do you guys know how lucky you really are?" I pointed out, hoping that Kazuha would stop clencing her fists soon. I liked my nose where it was. "You have one of the nicest fandoms that I know of! There are a lot of really cool people writing about you!"

"How about the Ai versus Ran debate?" a little girl with blonde hair deadpanned, folding her arms. God, she was creeping me out. Behind her, Agasa just looked uncomfortable with the whole thing.

"…okay, there are bound to be shipping conflicts in any fandom, but most of us can agree to disagree," I said, hoping to God that no one would strangle me in my sleep for this. "But seriously, why do you want to hurt us? It could be a hell of a lot worse! We love you!" Meanwhile, I was thinking about things. Like how if I ducked around the old doctor and jumped over the Shounen Tantei, I could probably make it to the door before Hattori could stop me…that was Escape Plan Alpha…

"So…you took away my memory and everyone else's memories of me," Kaito raised an eyebrow, turning a deck of cards over and over in his hands, "because you apparently love me? You've also killed me—repeatedly, I might add. You've killed Aoko, you've killed _both_ of us off in a couple of fics, and you've had Aoko kill me—what the hell was up with that, anyway?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" the girl in question huffed.

"It was a parody!" I protested. They didn't look convinced.

"How about me?" Heiji glared at me. "You shot me in the head and dumped me in a river."

"You didn't actually get carried away by the river," I pointed out.

Now it was Conan and Shinichi's turn. "You let Gin shoot me in the head!" Shinichi yelled.

"Twice!" Conan added.

"…so does everyone else here know about that 30 Kisses lemon—MMPH?" I started to ask, but they both leapt forward (as did Ran, interestingly enough) and clapped a total of six hands over my mouth. Well, that answered _that_ question. It seemed that they didn't want anyone else to know about that little…ah, indiscretion.

Ran let go first and laid out her own accusation against me. "Why did you have to kill me off? What have I ever done to you?" She was glaring, her arms folded across her chest. Ack, this was not good.

"It was for drama! I swear!" I waved it off. "And besides, Shinichi was there with you."

"That doesn't change the whole 'dead' thing," she grumbled.

"Is there anyone here that you haven't killed off yet?" Heiji demanded.

I glanced around the room, scanning through all of the stories I'd written about these crazy folks, and was finally able to come up with an answer. "I think I let Akai live…" There was an audible snort from the other side of the room. "And Kogoro." A drunken laugh. This just kept getting better and better.

Ah, Kazuha's turn now. "How about that whole pregnancy thing? You just tossed me out in front of a car, and my excuse was 'They won't hit me because I'm pregnant.' What the HELL?"

"…umm, that's actually based on a true story," I said, shoving my hair out of my face again. "My mom did that when she was pregnant with me, and that was her exact reasoning. She told me so. Hormones make people do funny things!" Again with the not looking convinced thing…

"Why am I even here?" Hakuba asked. "You've barely written anything about me—but I must say that the few you have written are highly offensive to me. I would never think such things about Kuroba!"

Kaito snorted in agreement. "And what about me and Kudo? What the hell was that?" He ran a hand through his shock of dark hair. "You've paired me with Aoko, Hakuba, and Kudo, to varying degrees of what the hell. Why do I have to be the fandom bicycle? I don't work that way!"

I coughed (and strangely enough, it came out sounding an awful lot like I said 'liar' but that was merely a coincidence, I swear) and nonchalantly minimized the window I was typing in. If he wasn't quite ready to kill me, then it wasn't worth it to have him see the fic in progress—involving Hakuba, Kaito, the principal's office, and a large bottle of pheremones. That would be bad.

"Didn't you keep prodding Jeva on that vampire fic?" Kaito asked.

"Why is everyone blaming me for that?" I threw my hands in the air. "It's just as much Fyliwion's fault as it is mine! Blame her too!" I decided not to mention that I was seriously looking forward to the future of that story, which I secretly hoped included something sexy.

Okay, maybe I'm lying about the secretly part.

They seemed to be talking amongst themselves now, most likely deciding my fate. Still, I was gradually feeling more confident that I would, in fact, live to see the sunrise the next morning and tell my family I love them one last time. And possibly tease my sister again.

I just had to get these wackos out of my room.

"Okay?" I said. "So can you guys please go away?"

There seemed to be a conference amongst everyone, and a chorus of nods. I sighed in relief.

"Okay, next we need to have a word with this 'Icka' person," Kaito said as he glanced down at what appeared to be a list in his hand. Judging by the size of the paper, it was a fairly _long_ list. I couldn't help but wonder how many of the Many Cases One Truth LJ authors were on there—those folks tend to have lots and lots of fun. "She's the one who started that yaoi community on LJ." A round of grumbling met this declaration, most of it male.

"I really don't see what all the fuss is about," Kazuha said with a very toothy grin. "It's just yaoi."

Heiji eyed his best friend warily. "You. Are. A. Pervert."

"…and?"

Still mumbling, the small group of animated characters disappeared back into my television screen (apparently heading for another meeting with one of The Fandom Greats), I turned my eyes back to my computer. A while back, I decided to name my computer Ari—it stands for **A**bort, **R**etry, **I**nfluence with large hammer. The word processor was still running there, glaring white on the screen, save for the lines of black text running in even rows across the digital page.

With a sigh, I shoved my hair out of my face once more. "I guess that could have been worse…"

As if on cue, two more figures appeared in my bedroom, crawling out of the television screen. Both of them were men, in black outfits. One of them had very long, very blonde hair—if my guess was correct, it was probably Evil. The other one was more of a gorilla, and I think he was glaring at me—hard to tell with those sunglasses on. In the middle of the night. Indoors. It shouldn't surprise anyone that this all made me just a teensy bit nervous.

What surprised me, though, was the fact that instead of waving a handgun in my face…Blondie shoved a bouquet of flowers into my hands. "This is because you're actually writing about me for that 30 Evil Deeds challenge," he growled. "I give credit where it's due. But you tell anyone we were here, and it's curtains, ya understand?"

I nodded. Yes—understand, I most certainly did. Tell anyone, I wouldn't. Talk like Yoda, I must.

"Uhh, thank you," I said with my best smile. "You can leave now. I won't tell anyone. Promise."

Surprisingly, he did without any further argument. He just gave me a Look (what's with these people and these Looks they keep giving me?!) and went back into the TV, taking his gorilla with him.

I let out a sigh of relief—thank God they were gone. Then I looked down at the bouquet I'd been given. I do enjoy gardening, a trait and hobby I share with my mother. So I was sure I could find some way to use that and rationalize the appearance of this…er, lovely floral arrangement.

I'm sure every girl gets a bouquet of poison ivy and Venus fly traps at some point in her life, right?

Right. Of course.

My bangs were hanging in my face again—I guess that beautician and I had majorly different definitions of 'a trim.' No matter, though—I was alive and well and I hadn't been beaten or killed by any animated characters thus far. Setting the flowers aside (and ignoring the fact that they were trying to bite me), I turned back to my computer. Okay, back to the fic!

I think I'll make this all sweet and fluffy and happy…and then, to borrow a phrase from Mercedes Lackey, I'll drop a mountain on them. Yeah, that'll work. That'll show 'em.

"Excuse me, but why don't you ever write about me?" a woman's voice spoke from the TV.

My forehead met my desk with a loud thunk. "Vermouth, go the hell away."

* * *

**PS.** _Someone actually told me that they were expecting something huge and sweeping and romantic for a conclusion. And truth be told, I was thinking that too. But then I got to this point, where it was time to write this, and…there was nothing. I had absolutely nothing left. I was out of ideas, and even if I'd had an idea, I don't think there was anything I could have come up with that would have been epic enough to place as the last fic for this challenge._

_So…I did this instead. Taking the theme of writer's choice fairly literally, and posting an ending story that I'm sure will get me killed and/or lynched. But you know what? I'm happy with it. Like I said, I had no ideas left, not for anything big or flashy. And as far as I'm concerned, finishing this challenge is epic enough on its own for me._

_With this, we come to the end of a two-year road. And yes, it has been two years to the day for this challenge. It began on Lurker Day, and on Lurker Day it shall end. So thank you. Thank you so much to those who have been with me from the beginning, thank you to those who have left kind words and constructive comments throughout the course of this._

_And so for the last time on fanfic100, I get to say this: thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


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